Left Your Heart Torn
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: Peace comes to Ambassador's son & Mossad Director's daughter. Settled in Ireland, the family hasn't looked back on the past that nearly destroyed them. When trouble begins to brew in Ireland again, they find themselves tugged into the fray, w/new generation about to be shaped by violence that- no matter how they try- they may never escape. Set ten months after Counting Stars ends.
1. Chapter 1

**Left Your Heart Torn **

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: Peace has finally come to the American Ambassador's son and the Mossad Director's daughter and their family. Settled and thriving in Ireland, the family hasn't once looked back on the past that nearly destroyed them. But when trouble begins to brew in Ireland again, they find themselves tugged into the fray, with a whole new generation about to be shaped by violence that- no matter how hard they try- they may never escape. Picks up... ten months after _Counting Stars_ ends. **

**A/N: I was thinking about it, and out of all the universes I've created, I think I enjoy this one the most. I just like the interactions between the characters and the strong family dynamic the characters seem to have, and if I can, I'd love to explore it even further as the kids get older.**

**A/N: I also have a story in the works called _'A Child of Trouble'_ centered around Tim growing up in Ireland during the Troubles, and how Ziva and the team help him work through his tainted and broken childhood. First chapter of that should be up soon. **

His strong hands slid over her body, pulling her closer. She let him pull her until she was pressed against his chest, and after a moment, she turned, meeting his gaze with a grin. "Good morning, baby." His response was a soft kiss before he moved to kiss her neck. She hummed softly in contentment, reaching behind her to tangle her fingers in his hair, as his arms tightened around her and he nuzzled her skin softly. Before she could say anything else, he'd flipped them over so that she was laying beneath him. "Someone's feisty this morning." She chuckled as he cut her off with a kiss.

Gently, he ran his teeth along her bottom lip, before slowly taking her lower lip in his teeth. He tugged gently on her lip before pulling away. She took the moment to flip them over and tug him to a sitting position, nestling herself comfortably into his lap. His hands slid down to gently caress her ass, pulling her closer to him, pressing her hips to his. He didn't say a word, just continued to touch and hold her, nudging his nose against hers. She searched his gaze for several minutes, whispering,

"Talk to me, baby." But all Tim did was shake his head and kiss her sweetly, running the tip of his tongue over her lower lip. She opened her mouth, letting his tongue dart gently over hers before she reciprocated. The kiss deepened, and slowly, he ran one hand up her side, tugging on the strap of her dark blue tank. With the strap down, he moved his head down and began sucking and nibbling on the soft mound of her breast. She tilted her head back, tangling her fingers in his hair as his tongue moved over soft skin. She let out a groan, allowing him to pull her tank down over her stomach. Then, he buried his face in her breasts, nipping and sucking gently on them. Suddenly, her back hit the pillows, and she moaned in soft pleasure as his tongue slid over her hardened nipple. "_Tim..."_

All too soon, he moved to work on her other breast, moving a hand up to fondle and caress the side he'd just abandoned. She whimpered as his thumb brushed over the sensitive skin, and she found herself pressing her hips into his. Gently, he took her nipple between his teeth and ran his tongue over the sensitive bud, forcing her to bite her lip to keep from waking the kids sound asleep in the rooms down the hall. Eventually, he pulled away, moving up and gently pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Good morning."

She glared at him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a quick glance at the clock. Little after three. She took a deep breath, searching his face. "What was that about? Not that I mind..." He shrugged.

"Just wanted to tell you I love you." Her glare slowly morphed into a smile, and she kissed him sweetly before allowing him to check the time. "You want to go for a run?" She shrugged as he got up, enjoying the sight of him before her. She pulled the straps of her top back over her shoulders curled up in the blankets, enjoying the show as her husband got undressed.

"Now? In this weather?" She asked, glancing at the window. A light rain was falling outside, common in eastern Ireland; it was something Ziva loved. Tim turned back to her, pulling on a pair of running pants. Ziva let her dark gaze move over his chest, enjoying the muscles she loved so. Ten months had passed since the family had moved to Ireland, and the family had settled in just fine. The kids loved Ireland, as did Tim and Ziva. It had given them a fresh start, a new life away from NCIS and the pain it had caused. They'd left everyone behind- the team, the agency they'd worked for for years, their siblings and the ones they loved. They'd left the pain they'd suffered and found a new life, a much calmer, much more peaceful life in the hills of Ireland and the bustling city of Dublin.

"Why not?" He replied, coming out of the bathroom after pulling on a tank and a grabbing a dark green windbreaker after slipping into his shoe and tying them. Then, he leaned over the bed. "Besides, I thought you liked to race me." He kissed her quickly before pulling away and heading out of the room. Ziva watched him go, before quickly climbing out of bed and hurriedly got dressed, chasing after him.

She found her husband in the kitchen, their two oldest- Asher and Liron- sitting at the kitchen table, bowls of cereal in front of them. Both her boys were still sleepy, but gave her smiles as she entered. "Where's your sister?"

"Sleeping." Ziva nodded, even as she heard the creak of footsteps on the stairs, only to turn and find her only daughter, Zipporah, come into the kitchen, holding her brother's stuffed teddy bear- called Mr. Bunny Rabbit- by the hand. The little girl yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. As the child joined her brothers at the table, Ziva went to Tim.

"We're gonna go for a quick run. Will you three be okay?" Tim asked; all three children nodded, yawning into their cereal. As Tim took Ziva's hand and tugged her to the back door, he muttered, "And you've been wondering why our children are such early risers?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The water was warm on her skin, and she relished this time to herself. It was so rare that she got alone time- being the mother of three rambunctious children and a wife certainly took up most of her time, not to mention work- but when she did have time alone, she didn't waste a moment. As she stepped out of the shower and grabbed her husband's robe, she thought back on the decisions and mistakes she'd made that had brought her here.

No, not all were mistakes. Her oldest son certainly wasn't; he was a blessing. An absolute blessing. He had been the one thing that had kept her sane when she lived in Israel.

She quickly wiped the precipitation off the mirror in their bathroom, stopping as she heard the thunder break through her silent morning. A summer shower, starting early, not that she minded. She loved the rain; a soft chuckled escaped her throat as she thought of the nights they would make love to the sound of the rain on the windows. As she back to that rainy night, the night Zipporah had made her entrance into the world. The night her family had been completed, with the birth of her beautiful baby girl.

After a moment, she slipped out of the bathroom and stepped into the bedroom, making sure the bedroom door was closed and locked before she got dressed. She needed the alone time, but in a house filled with three beautiful, feisty, energetic children, a loving, attentive husband and a former drug-sniffing search dog that was just as energetic as her children, creative ways were needed in order to find the quiet she so longed for on days like this. And with the beginning of the summer holidays starting next week, the house would be filled with laughter and noise galore. Ziva chuckled as she untied the robe and let it hang open on her small, five-foot-three frame. Several minutes passed in silence as she ran her hands over her body, her fingers grazing over her belly, tracing the faded stretch marks left her pregnancies. She jumped, hearing the back door slam, followed by the sounds of Jethro's excited barking, and the laughter of her children as they chased after him and the ball they'd thrown for him.

It didn't seem possible, that there had been a time where she_ longed_ for noise and sound, when now all she longed for was peace and quiet. But that time had quickly given her the noise she so desired, with the birth of her oldest son. Her hand grazed over her womb, memories of that long ago day in Israel, when her son had come into the world, and turned his mother's life upside down.

_She let out a choked whimper. "Maybe she should lie down?" Rivka glanced at her youngest daughter, but didn't say anything, instead, she focused on Ziva. It was Ari that answered. He shook his head. _

_"No. It's more painful for the mother to be lying down during the contractions_. _The best thing is for Zivaleh to find a position that helps deal with the pain-" His sister let out a whimper, and it was enough for Rivka to raise her voice._

_"Enough! Both of you! This is not how you should be acting with your sister is in labor! Out, both of you! Let me talk to her for a few minutes! Out!" Ari did as told, slipping out of the room, but Tali just stayed where she was. Rivka narrowed her eyes. "Out, Talia! Now!" A minute passed, before the girl left, closing the bedroom door softly behind her. Once they were both gone, she turned to Ziva. Her oldest daughter was sitting on the bed, and after a moment, she helped the laboring mother further back on the bed. Ziva took a deep breath._

_"Ima... it hurts..." Gently, Rivka took her daughter's face in her hands._

_"I know, Zivaleh. I have been there, with both you and Tali. I know exactly what you are going through. They will get more painful, as it gets closer to birth, you understand me?" Ziva nodded, whimpering. She slowly moved to sit behind her daughter, holding her close. "Breathe through the pain, Zivaleh. I know that is the last thing you want to do right now, but you have to."_

_Her daughter did as told, leaning forward, arms around her belly. "Oh God, Ima!" A scream escaped her throat, and she soon felt Rivka's arms tight around her._

_"Breathe, Zivaleh!" She pressed a kiss to her daughter's head. "That is it. Good girl." Slowly, Rivka lifted Ziva's blouse and tank top and guided her daughter's hands in smooth, circular motions over the distended skin. "I know it hurts, but you have to push through. It is your body's way of telling you that the baby is ready to be born." Ziva cried out in pain as another contraction took hold. "Breathe through the pain, sweetheart. That is it."_

_"I... I want... I want him here..." Ziva choked on a sob, laying her head on Rivka's shoulder. "This... hi... his son..." _

_"I know it is. I know. And he would be here if he could, sweetheart. I know he would be here experiencing this with you, Zivaleh, and he deserves to be."_

_"What if... I... he never..."_

_"You will find him, sweetheart. You know why? Because you have the strength to find him." Ziva shook her head, whimpering through another painful contraction. "Ken, you do, Zivaleh. You have the strength to find the father of your son, when you are ready to find him. But right now, you must focus on the baby. This little baby you two created is going to come soon. Focus on him now. And when you are ready- when you feel you are ready- then, you will find the strength to find your son's father."_

"Ziva?" She jumped, managing to grab the robe and hold it against her as she turned. Tim stood, leaning into the doorway. He quickly glanced at his wife, green eyes curious.

"What is it?" Tim opened his mouth to speak, stopped, and seemed to think.

"Got a call from the school; they've canceled classes because of the storm. So the kids wanted to know if you wanted to help them make cookies. I told them I'd come up and ask." She nodded.

"Sure. I will be down soon." He gave her a soft smile, before slipping out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Once he was gone, she turned back to the mirror, thinking. Her mother had been right; she'd had the strength to finally find her son's father, eight years later. Just like she'd had the strength to go through childbirth without him there. And now, she had three beautiful children and a strong, stable marriage- something she'd never dreamed off that long ago day. Rivka had been right. Her strength had gotten her through.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Guest for reviewing 1 and Reader for reviewing 1 and 2.**

"_Ima_, can we get these?" Ziva looked up from her shopping list. After baking the cookies, Tim said he was going to head to the farmers' market on main to pick up some groceries. The kids had of course heard and begged to go along. Tim had agreed, and the family had made a day out of it, even taking Jethro along for a walk in the light rain. It was that time when spring slid into summer- the kids had a week of school left before the summer holidays- when the last of the spring produce was waiting to be bought, and a plethora of the summer harvest was being brought in and laid out. Ziva had enjoyed the sight of Zipporah, tugging Tim ahead with her to stalls that caught her eye, Jethro tagging along on his leash; the boys of course elected to stay behind with Ziva, enjoying the chance to take in everything.

Zipporah stood with a handful of spring onions in her small fists, the green stalks poking out like weeds in the grass. She glanced at Tim, who just shook his head and added a bag of cucumbers to the basket his wife carried; Zipporah had control of the other basket- already half-full- and they'd yet to get to the meats and poultry. Both Tim and Ziva had found that the organic was worth the extra few cents, especially since they didn't have to go far to buy their food.

"_Ken_, Zipporah, you may." The child grinned, rushing to her mother and moving to place the onions in the basket, when Tim stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She turned, and took the plastic bag he held out, slipping the onions into it before placing it into the bag.

"_Ima_?" She glanced down at Liron. "Can we get peaches?"

"I'm not sure, my joy, can you?" Ziva asked; she and Tim made sure their children knew and used their manners, from eating at dinner to shopping in public. It was a rarity to see teenagers and children use manners nowadays, and the young parents made sure that their children knew how important manners were.

"_May_ we?" She grinned, leaning down as she ruffled her son's hair.

"Of course you may." With a kiss to his head, she stood, leading her sons to a fruit stall. "Now, why don't you two go pick out what you like?" Liron nodded, rushing off to do as told, but Asher stayed behind. "Don't you want to go-" The boy shook his head, leaning against his mother. Slowly, Ziva knelt down, setting the basket on the ground beside her. "What is it, my angel?" He swallowed. "Talk to me."

"I... I had a nightmare this morning. That's why I was up..." She raised an eyebrow; if she was correct, this was the same nightmare Asher had had since he'd been old enough to talk-

"The same one?" He nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?" He shrugged.

"Didn't want to bother you."

"Oh Asher Malachi, my angel, you can tell me anything, you know that. When we get home, you can tell me all about the nightmare. Okay?" He nodded; and Ziva wrapped her son in a hug.

* * *

By the time they returned to the house, they had enough to can and preserve for the next several weeks- something Ziva found she greatly enjoyed doing. As Liron and Zipporah helped Tim put the groceries away, Ziva motioned Asher to follow her. They slipped into the living room and Ziva took a seat on the sofa. Asher watched her, silent. Gently, she patted the sofa beside her, and the boy curled into her side. "Talk to me, my angel." The boy looked up at her, before glancing over his shoulder towards the kitchen. Tim was helping Zipporah was the fruit and place it in a bowl. Ziva had told him about Asher's nightmare, and he'd agreed to let Ziva deal with it- she had, after all, been dealing with it for years before she came to America.

He swallowed, curling into his mother's side, playing with the buttons on his mother's light jacket. Gently, Ziva brushed her fingers through her son's curls, resting her cheek on his head. "It was the same one."

"In Israel?" She asked softly; he'd often climbed into bed and hid in her arms, afraid of the same nightmare that would haunt his dreams every night. Sometimes he would get through it, and then others he would rush to her room, climbing into bed and telling her through his tears of the nightmare. Asher nodded. "What happened this time?" He swallowed, sniffling.

"A... _Abba_ disappeared and... and Liron and Zippa were kidnapped and... and you died and... and I was alone... and I waited for you to come back but... but you never did..." He sniffled. "I looked and looked and looked and... but I didn't see _Abba_. He never came back. And then... then I found... Zippa and Liron dead... and..." Tears began to slip down his cheeks, and he buried his face in his mother's chest, bursting into tears. Ziva held her son close, pressing a soft kiss to his dark curls.

"Oh Asher Malachi, my angel..." She was so familiar with the nightmare, she didn't even need him to describe it. From the time he'd been old enough to talk, Asher had had this nightmare- always with the same outcome- Ziva dead and his father missing. Back in Israel, if he hadn't come climbing into her room sobbing, Ziva would often wake to his crying, and rush into his room to find him still in the nightmare. "I thought you had outgrown this." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his head as she gently rocked her oldest in an effort to calm his tears.

* * *

"_Abba_? Why is brother so sad?" Tim turned to from Zipporah to watch his wife and oldest son. He sighed. Ziva had told him years ago of Asher's nightmares, and he had often watched as his wife had tried her hardest to comfort the boy, talking to him, singing, even just holding him, but nothing seemed to stem his fears.

"He had a nightmare, sweetheart." Liron glanced over his shoulder before turning back to his father.

"The one he always has?" Tim nodded, not at all surprised that Liron knew about his brother's nightmares. "When they were in Israel?" Tim nodded, locking his gaze with his wife.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Dinner was quiet, and soon the kids were put to bed. Jethro lay out in the hall, guarding his owners' three precious pups, as he always did. The dog raised his head as Tim came back up the stairs after making sure the doors were locked and everything turned off. He chuckled softly as he knelt down and scratched behind the German Shepard's ear. "That's a good boy, Jet." The dog watched the man stand and gently push the closest door open. Ears peeled, he listened as Tim's soft voice drifted out into the hall.

"Get some rest." The boy shifted, turning onto his back. His green eyes opened slowly and he yawned.

"_Abba_?" Tim chuckled softly. He knew he'd never be able to make it in to check on his children one last time and then get out without them waking up.

"You're supposed to be asleep, sweetheart. You have school tomorrow."

"Did_ Ima_ tell you-"

"About the nightmare? Yeah, she did." He perched on the edge of his son's bed, reaching out and gently brushing the dark curls off his forehead. "When did you start having it?" Asher shrugged.

"Since I always remember." Tim nodded.

"And it's always the same?" The boy thought a moment, eyes narrowing in thought.

"For long time it was... then... changed..." Tim chuckled gently as his son's thought process was interrupted by a yawn. "You'll never leave, _Abba_?" He shook his head.

"No. Never. Wild horses couldn't take me from_ Ima_, or you or your brother and sister." Asher's brow furrowed and Tim waved it away. "It's an expression, sweetheart. But what it means, is that no matter what happens, no matter the situation, I will _never, ever_ leave you. Any of you. I promise. Okay?" The boy nodded, and Tim smiled softly at him. "Good. Now get some sleep." He pressed a soft kiss to Asher's forehead and then got up, slipping silently out of the room before going to check on his two youngest.

* * *

She quickly ran the brush through her hair, thinking back on Asher's nightmare. It had been the same one he'd had in Israel, and if she were honest with herself, it scared her. She'd never seen her baby boy so scared. A moment passed before she shook her head. No, he wasn't a baby anymore-

Setting the brush down, she quickly removed her bra and grabbed her tank, pulling it on. As she tugged it down, her fingers grazed her stomach, finding the marks left behind from nine months of carrying her children. Her mother had made sure she understood that the pain she was going through was a promise of the gift Tim had given her before they'd been separated.

_"You have been given a beautiful gift, Zivaleh. All that pain you went through, all the hours, this is why. This beautiful baby boy you have just pushed out of your body, is the reason for all that pain. All of it, everything, every ounce of pain was so this little gift he gave you could be born. Never forget that." _

She took a deep breath, tugging her tank down and climbing into bed. She'd asked Tim to check on the kids, and so lay with her back to the door, staring out the window at the rainstorm, her thoughts drifting back to Asher's early childhood in Israel. Those eight years had not been easy, but they were nothing compared to the first days after he'd been born- especially the breast feeding. Rivka had taught her, watched over her carefully, and Ziva had always been slow, making sure she didn't mess anything up. But what had unnerved her most was when her mother slipped off to the store, taking Tali with her and leaving Ziva- two weeks after Asher had been born. Of course, Ziva had insisted she go, that she'd be fine, and she was, if not frazzled and terrified.

_"Okay. You can do this, it is not that hard." She took a deep breath, cradling the baby on her shoulder as she climbed onto the bed and sat back against the pillows. "Ima only left for a few minutes. You will be fine." She glanced down at her son as she cradled him in her lap, tugging the strap of her tank top down. "We will be fine." She shivered in reflex as the cool air hit her skin and her nipple hardened. _

_Worrying her bottom lip, she gently cradled her son's head in her hand, like Rivka had taught her. Holding her breast in her other hand, she gently guided her son's mouth to her nipple, but he didn't latch on. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. Four tries later- mainly because she either worked herself into a panic or the baby didn't latch on- she finally managed to guide his mouth onto her breast, and settled back as he began to nurse. "That was... not so hard." _

_Gently, she reached up, brushing her fingers against her son's head. His dark curls were hers exactly- dark and curly and wild. He was truly beautiful. Eventually, she realized it was time to switch sides, and gently slipped her finger between her son's mouth and her nipple. "Okay. Ima said to... to change sides so... so I do not get sore. Just... just do what I did before."_

_By the time Rivka and Tali had returned from the store, Ziva was nursing on the other side, gently cradling her son in her arms, watching his beautiful blue eyes as he drank from her breast. "Zivaleh-" She looked up as Tali entered the bedroom, suddenly shy at the sight of her older sister, cradling her son to her breast._

_"Come sit by me, Tali." She whispered; slowly the girl did as told, joining her. When Rivka came to check on Ziva, she found Ziva gently explaining what was going on, and left her daughters be._

She lifted her head, turning as the door closed behind her husband. "Is Asher okay?" Tim nodded, sighing.

"Yeah. He's... he's pretty shaken up, but... but he should be okay." He slipped into bed beside her, reaching out and gently brushing his thumb over her cheek. "What are you thinking about?" She met his gaze, and bit her lip.

"Breastfeeding." Tim raised an eyebrow.

"Breastfeeding?" She nodded. "What brought that on?" She shrugged, keeping silent.

"I just... I know what it's like to feel fear. And fear, it never goes away, no matter how many years pass. Do not count Asher's nightmares out yet." Then, she leaned close, pressing a kiss to his lips before turning to face the door saying, "Besides, those first few months, it was _your_ son nursing at my breast. That was not fear like nightmares, that was terrifying."

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but instead, just wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to hostaqueen and Guest for reviewing 4; and Reader for reviewing 3 and 4.**

Ziva stretched, feeling the blankets settle over her body as she relaxed. Tim was up and about, and she quickly checked the time, finding it around four-thirty in the morning. Something moved closer and she stopped, shifting onto her side. After a moment, she grabbed the blanket and lifted it; Asher's big, tear-filled green eyes gazed up her. "Asher Malachi, what are you-"

"Nightmare." She sighed, realizing that her son had just done what he used to do when they were in Israel- slipping into bed beside her simply for a little reassurance that everything would be all right and that his nightmare was just that. She didn't fault him, but he had to face whatever source was the cause, otherwise he'd never get a good night's sleep.

"Did you talk to _Abba_?" She asked, sitting up. He nodded. "And what did he say?" Asher bit his lip.

"He... he said it was just a nightmare. And that it would go away." She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face.

"Oh, _Tim_. It's not _that type_ of nightmare." Quickly, she pushed the blankets aside, climbing out of bed. "You stay here, you understand me?" He nodded. "Even if you hear yelling, you _stay_ here."

"Why would there be yelling?" Asher asked, confused, as he watched Ziva go to the door.

"Because I may be _killing_ your father." She replied, closing the door behind her. Silently, Ziva checked on her two youngest before heading downstairs. She could hear Tim in the kitchen, fixing coffee. "Timothy?" He turned to her, and she found that he was already dressed and ready for work, his hair still damp from his shower.

"_Boker Tov_, Zi." She accepted the kiss watching as he filled Jethro's water dish and put it down for the dog.

"There is _nothing_ good about this morning, Timothy." She replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "I found our oldest son burrowed under the blankets in our bed, _tears_ in his eyes. He said that he went to you and that you told him his nightmare would_ go away_. It's been years! If that nightmare hasn't gone away by now, it _never will_!" Tim took a deep breath, resting his hands on the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

"Zi, I didn't mean-"

"Don't you 'Zi' me, _Timothy Niall McGee_!" She growled, poking him hard in the chest. Her husband started, shocked. He'd been meticulous in making sure no one knew his middle name- even going so far as to claim he didn't have one when he was at NCIS- but somehow, someway, his wife had gone through his careful burying and dug it up again. He opened his mouth to speak, and quickly closed it again. Ziva wasn't fazed. "How_ dare_ you tell our son that this nightmare will go away! It is _not_ that type of nightmare! He has been having it since he was a baby! I would think- no, I'd _hope_\- that when Asher comes to his _Abba_ and tells him he's had a nightmare, that you would... oh, I don't know... sit down and listen! Tell our son that everything would be okay? Instead of pushing him aside!"

"I'm sorry, Ziva, okay? I didn't know! Asher told me had a nightmare, and... and said that you knew about it, so-"

Neither heard Asher sneak down the hall and hide on the stairs.

* * *

"Brother?" He turned; Zipporah stood behind him, Mr. Bunny Rabbit in her hand. "What's going on?" Asher held a finger to his lips, and after a moment, the little girl climbed into her brother's lap. The siblings listened as Tim pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and took a seat.

"I don't know anything about that nightmare. Whenever I've asked, he keeps quiet. It's like... he doesn't trust me. Like he can't trust me to... to be there for him." After a moment, Ziva took a seat at the table. "I offered to listen today, but he just shook his head and told me he'd talk to you. Ziva, it's not that I don't want to be there for him, it's that Asher won't _let_ me be there for him. I try, Zi, I really do, I just..."

"I know." They heard her chair scrape back across the smooth stone floor, followed by their mother's nonexistent footsteps. "And I know that this has to do with me, when I was in Mossad." She swallowed. "It was steady work and good pay, and... and as long as I was on the fringes, I was safe from my father."

"Ziva-" Silently, Zipporah moved off her brother's lap and scooted down the stairs, silent. She tried to peer around the wall without being caught, but Asher pulled her back.

"What's going on?" Both siblings turned to see Liron join them.

"Shh!" Zipporah covered her mouth, quiet.

"No, Tim, I know it has to do with me. It has to do with the years I worked in Mossad, before we came to America. When I had to leave Asher alone, or with_ Ima_. I... I know he would worry about me... what child wouldn't worry if they didn't know if their mother would come back or not. And those months I was away from him, thanks to my father's missions..." The kids could hear the tears in their mother's voice. "I couldn't leave my son, I had to put food on the table, I had no choice, Tim."

"We don't necessarily know-"

"_I do_." Ziva cried. "I _know_ it's because of what went on when I was in Mossad! That I-" They heard Ziva make her way to the stairs. She stopped, surprised to see her children sitting on the stairs, listening.


	6. Chapter 6

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Ziva took a deep breath and pulled her jacket on, buttoning it quickly. Both she and Tim worked in Dublin- even though they lived in Clontarf- and the children went to school in Clontarf, mainly because Tim and Ziva wanted to make sure the kids were safe. And they almost always managed to get home to either pick the kids up- or, if the children decided to walk home with friends- or be home in time to make dinner and help them with their homework. It was only three miles between Clontarf and Dublin, and Tim and Ziva didn't work far from each other- oftentimes, they met for lunch.

She gently adjusted the star around her neck. _"This got you through so much. Think of this as the last time to the good memories in your past. It helped you survive those eight long years we were forced apart. This held all the hope you had, all the love you gave our son, all the whishes and promises you whispered in our son's ear as he was growing up. This tie stays."_ Her husband was right-

"_Ima_?" She looked up to see Asher standing in the bedroom doorway. Dropping her hands, she went to her oldest son, kneeling in front of him. Gently, she reached up, adjusting the collar of his shirt. All three of her children went to Belgrove School- both her boys went to the boys' school, and Zipporah attended the girls'- all on the same campus. She remembered Tim talking about the annoyance of school uniforms growing up- and how Sarah had once lit hers on fire over Christmas break one year. Of course, Ziva remembered the uniforms she and Tali had been forced to wear to school, but she hadn't thought much of it when they looked at Belgrove. No, what Tim and Ziva had been interested in was the education, and Belgrove had met their standards.

"What is it, my angel?" She whispered, gently fixing her son's tie. He sighed. "Talk to me."

"Do I have to go? What if something happens and you get hurt?" Her thumb gently brushed the tears off his cheek.

"I thought you liked school, my angel?"

"I do, but-"

"The nightmare?" He nodded. "Oh Asher." She pulled her son into her arms, holding him close. "It is not important right now. What's important is school, and that you get your education-"

"But-"

"I will be fine. _Abba_ will be fine. You just need to worry about your classes and seeing all your friends and your Curling practice, okay?" Reluctantly, he nodded. "And Abba and I will be there to pick you and your brother and sister up at two-twenty." The boy bit his lip.

"_Ima,_ can we walk home today?" She thought a moment.

"Do you have practice today?" He shook his head. "Okay, so you and brother and sister can walk home today." He gave his mother a small smile, which Ziva returned with a soft kiss to his forehead. The _and when we get home from work, you and I will talk_ was loud and clear.

* * *

"Hey baby. Sorry I'm late." She looked up, grinning as Tim slipped into the chair across from her.

"That's okay, I got here a few minutes myself." She replied, leaning over for a quick kiss. They settled down and didn't even bother glancing at the menus. The small tavern restaurant they sat in had once been a tea shop in the early nineteen hundreds, but the owners' descendants had turned the former teashop into a cozy tavern in the seventies; it was a regular stop for people that worked on the same street as Tim and Ziva. It was the couple's favorite spot to meet for lunch, situated between where the two worked- Tim's workplace being on the eastern side and Ziva's on the western- and they were so familiar with the place, the owners knew their orders by heart, and usually had them ready by the time they stepped through the doors.

"So, how are _yer wee_ _ones_?" Tim gave Emma, the older daughter of the tavern owners, a smile as she brought their orders. Tim glanced at Ziva, who shrugged.

"They're doing good. _'ave_ a week of school left, so they're thrilled about that." Tim replied. Emma chuckled. Married and with two children of her own, Emma knew the excitement of the summer holidays. Ziva propped her chin in her hand, listening as Tim spoke, the Irish lilt taking hold. She thought it funny that most people were amazed he'd been born in America, his Irish accent was so pure, so grounded in his speaking. After a moment, the waitress glanced at Ziva.

"_Ev'rything a'right_, Ziva?" The young mother looked up, blinking.

"Yeah. _Ken_, everything's fine, Emma, I just..." Emma glanced between the pair, grinning.

"_Ye_ aren't the only one to fall in love _wit'_ the Irish lilt." She gently patted Ziva's shoulder. "Enjoy." And then, she slipped away to help another customer. Ziva blushed, meeting Tim's gaze. They ate in silence for several minutes, before Tim asked,

"So we need to talk to Asher when we get home." She nodded, swallowing.

"I'll talk to him." He sighed, setting his fork down and folding his hands.

"Ziva, we're a team. We were a team when we worked under Gibbs, and we're a team now. Let me help. Asher is my son, too. It's my right to help him through this."

"I know, baby." She reached over, taking his hand and squeezing. "But let me talk to him first. He's always turned to me. Once he's comfortable enough, then you can add your voice to the conversation."

"_Ev'rything a'right_ with the boys?" Emma asked, coming back later with the check. Ziva sighed, and suddenly realized something.

"Emma, you said once that Reagan had nightmares. How did you help her deal with them?" Emma stopped, thinking.

"David and I got her a couple journals for Christmas, and told her to write down her dreams and express what she was feeling. She calls them her nightmare journals." Tim and his wife locked eyes, caught on the same wavelength.


	7. Chapter 7

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"Maybe we can make cookies again!" Liron rolled his eyes.

"We made cookies yesterday, Zippi."

"But I like making cookies, brother!" She replied, holding her arms out. The siblings were walking home from school with a few friends that lived in the same area of Clontarf. Zipporah was walking on the edge of the flowerbed, backpack on her shoulders, her brothers beside her.

"Not as much as you like_ eating_ them!" Liron replied, tugging gently on his sister's braid.

"_Ow_!" She punched him hard in the shoulder, and Liron jumped, turning to her.

"_That hurt_!" He glared at her, rubbing his shoulder.

"Then don't pull my hair!" She replied. "I'm a lady, like _Ima_. Ladies don't like their hair pulled!" She lifted her chin, glaring at him. Liron glanced at a couple of their friends, sticking his tongue out in annoyance.

"You're not a lady, Zippi."

"She's a girl." Patrick O'Reilly replied; he was only a few months older than Liron; his father owned a local bookstore in Clontarf- one Tim often took the kids too. He and his older sister, Grania, and their family lived not far from the McGees, and so the children often walked home from school together. Grania was a year younger than Asher, but that didn't stop her from developing a crush on the boy. One that Asher in no way returned.

"She's not a girl," Liron said, glancing at Zipporah. "She's a_ sister_." Zipporah shoved him hard, losing her balance and landing on top of him on the sidewalk.

"I am not a sister!" She snapped, green eyes sparking. Patrick laughed.

"_Aye, ye_ are. _Ye're_ Liron and Asher's sister." The girl glanced down at her brother before glancing at Asher, who stood waiting for them near the bookstore.

"Oh." She climbed off her brother, bouncing off to Asher. As Liron climbed to his feet, he grabbed his backpack, muttering,

"I hate being a big brother. She's so annoying."

* * *

"Do you think your Ma would let us come over after dinner?" Asher shrugged at Grania; they'd since parted ways with a couple friends, and were continuing to the section of Clontarf they lived on.

"Maybe. _Ima_ and _Abba_ don't mind, as long as we have our homework done before then." Grania had long since understood that Asher wasn't interested in her, but she hadn't been able to fully shake her crush. He was cute, and different than the other boys in school, and she liked that; even if she couldn't have him as a boyfriend, she'd settle for having him as a friend.

"What is_ yer_ Ma?" Patrick asked; Zipporah held tight to her oldest brothers' hand, listening silently. Asher turned to the younger boy. "She's different. She looks different than other people."

"Israeli." Asher replied. "Ima was born in Israel. Abba was born in Germany."

"You were born in Israel, too, brother." Zipporah said, looking up at him. He glanced down at her.

"Really?" Patrick asked. "What is it like? I've always wanted to travel, but we've only ever been to France because our _Aintín_ Elizabeth lives there." Asher swallowed. He didn't like talking about Israel; it brought up scary memories of when Ziva would go away on missions.

"Dry."

"Ye mean in the summer? What about during spring?" Asher glanced at his brother and sister.

"Israel does not have spring. Israel is a desert!" Silence fell among the children, that was soon cut short by the sound of arguing. It was coming from the store directly ahead of them- Zipporah stepped out, but Asher tightened his grip on her hand, pulling her back. "No." She turned to her brother, just as the glass window shattered, and someone rolled onto the sidewalk at their feet. Slowly, Asher lifted his head; Zipporah had burrowed into her older brother as glass shattered and flew. The children watched in silence as the man moaned and shook his head, slowly trying to climb to his feet. Zipporah glanced at her siblings.

"Mister, are you okay?" The man turned, locking eyes with the girl, smiled and started to speak, when a blast shattered the calm. Suddenly, the man dropped in a heap, bright red blood pooling on his shirt. Asher glanced towards the store; the own stood, shotgun in hand. A moment passed, before he tugged on his sister's hand and grabbed his brother's.

"Come on._ Ima_ and_ Abba_ will be mad if we're late." The children rushed home, trying hard to forget the sight they'd seen back on the sidewalk. As Asher shut the door behind his brother and sister- Patrick and Grania had bid them goodbye earlier- he thought a moment, before taking the extra keys off the small wire key holder and locking the door quickly behind him. Then, he grabbed his backpack and rushed up the stairs; Liron and Zipporah shared a look and got up from the kitchen table, homework abandoned. They slowly pushed open their brother's bedroom door and slipped inside.

"Brother?" Zipporah looked at Liron when Asher didn't answer. "Are you okay?" The older boy didn't look up from his homework.

"Fine, Zippa." He whispered. The two shared a glance, as Zipporah went to Asher and reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched, pulling away. "I said I'm fine, sister!" She nodded, tears in her eyes as she fled. Liron stayed, watching his older brother.

"I was scared too." Liron whispered. Asher met his baby brother's eyes.

"I wasn't scared."

"_Abba_ says that it's okay to be-" Asher stood.

"I said I _wasn't scared_, brother!" The younger boy swallowed, before going to Asher and wrapping his arms around his brother in a hug before leaving the room. After a moment, Asher went to his bed, curling up on it and starring out the window.

* * *

_The door banged shut, and he sat up. Savta was sound asleep, and Tali had curled up on the sofa, sound asleep with her book open on the floor. Niether heard the footsteps in the house. He did, though. Slowly climbing out of bed, he snuck to the door, and stepped out into the small hallway. The bathroom light was on. Slowly, silently, he pushed open the door._

_There was blood on the floor. Towels stained red and dripping pink water onto the wood beneath his mother's feet. Ziva sat on the edge of the tub, blouse open and hanging on her small frame. It too, was covered in bright red, and after a moment, she slowly removed it, being careful of her shoulder. The garment dropped to the floor with a wet plop! and his eyes moved back up to his mother. She had a white piece of cloth wrapped around her shoulder, and carefully, teeth in her bottom lip, she untied it, letting it fall away. The stained fabric floated to her feet, joining the red painting on the bathroom floor._

_His gaze snapped back up when Ziva whimpered, and it was then that Asher saw the bullet hole in his mother's shoulder. He watched as she took a pair of sterilized tweezers and gently pulled the bullet out. It dropped onto the floor with a ping! Then, she set the tweezers down and picked up a wash cloth; Asher could smell the peroxide on it, and watched as she slowly and gently cleaned the wound. He whimpered, and Ziva's head snapped up in shock. "Asher?"_

He sat up, hearing someone downstairs. It was a little after six, and_ Ima_ and_ Abba_ were yet to come home from work. They were usually home by five, but tonight...

Taking a deep breath, he got off the bed and grabbed his curling broom, heading downstairs. Zipporah and Liron had finished their homework and were upstairs, playing a board game in Liron's room; Jethro was laying beside them, taking a nap. Silently, Asher slipped downstairs, going to the front door. The first floor was dark, and he stopped, hearing someone trying to unlock the door. Voices could be heard- muffled- and quickly, Asher hid behind the door, waiting for whoever it was to come in. Finally the door opened-

_"Go away!"_ He swung the broom, hitting whoever had stepped into the house, and after a moment the light flicked on.

_"Asher Malachi!"_ The boy stopped, seeing his parents standing in the doorway. Tim was holding his nose, bleeding. Quickly, Asher dropped the broom, shaking. Tears slid down his cheeks, and after a moment, he threw himself at Tim.

_"Abba!"_ But Ziva grabbed her son's arm, pulling him away from his father and gently pushing Tim towards the kitchen.

"Go. Take care of that." She turned to her son. _"What the hell was that, Asher Malachi?"_ She demanded, leaning down to look in her son's green eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Liron and Zipporah on the stairs. The boy didn't say anything, he just stared at Ziva. Slowly, she knelt down, holding tight to her son's arms. _"Talk to me, Asher! What has gotten into you? Huh? What? What is going on in that mind of yours, my angel?"_ She demanded, reaching up to hold his head between her hands. The boy shook his head, throwing his arms around his mother's shoulders and burying his face in her neck, sobbing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Tim looked up from his book as his wife slammed their bedroom door. She rubbed her hands over her faced, sighing. "Damn it!" She swore in Hebrew, kicking the bedpost. Of course, by then, Tim had put his book aside and was climbing to his feet.

"Zi, whoa, whoa, _whoa-"_ She ignored him, grabbing one of her knives off the dresser and throwing it, embedding the tip in the door. "_Hey! Ziva_!" She turned to him, and he went to her, taking her hands as he slipped beside her and slowly removed the knife, opening a dresser drawer and slipping it inside. Once the drawer was closed, he pulled her into his arms. "Hey, talk to me. What happened, what did Asher say?"

Ziva had just spent an hour in her oldest son's bedroom, trying to get him to talk about why he'd attacked his father and what had happened today on the way home from school. Tim had had better luck with Liron and Zipporah, they at least talked about it- quietly, but still. Asher shut down and refused to say a word. After dinner, he'd skulked off to his room, shut the door and finished his homework before curling up on the bed and staring out the window. After putting his siblings to bed, Ziva had slipped into her son's room, taking a seat beside him on the bed. But when she'd reached out to stroke his hair, he'd pushed her away.

"Nothing. He won't talk to me. He hasn't said a word since dinner and I'm_ worried_, Tim. What if he's sick, or... or what if something happened at school or on the way home and he got hurt? Or what-" He laid a finger over his wife's lips, stopping her fears.

"We don't know, that, Zi. It could just be his age, too." She shook her head.

"No. Zipporah and Liron talked to you tonight. What did they say?" He shrugged, pulling away.

"Just that... they passed a fight on the way home from school, but they wouldn't say what it was about or where it was." She nodded, taking a deep breath. Then, she leaned into his chest, face covering her hands.

"I should know what's wrong, he's my son! Mothers are supposed to know when they're children are upset!" Tim wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

"Oh, Zi, you're a wonderful, beautiful mother. Asher is just... he's just a little boy. And he's upset. He'll talk to us when he's ready to talk. Until then, we just have to keep a close eye on him and trust him. Okay?" She nodded against his chest. After several minutes, she looked up at him, brushing her fingers over his cheeks.

"How is your nose?" He shrugged.

"I've been hit harder. Remember the time DiNozzo and I went undercover at that gay bar in downtown D.C. to catch that stripper that killed that marine?" Ziva nodded, chuckling. Tony hadn't had trouble acting as though he were gay- there were times when he caused Ziva and the rest of the team to certainly question his sexuality- but Tim... it had been hilarious to watch from her "work" as the bartender as man after man hit on her husband, and Tony tried to kiss him to keep up the ruse. Of course, a fight had ensued between the suspect and another patron, and Tim, trying to break it up, had had his nose broken by the suspect. Zipporah had been about a year or so, and so Tim had spent his days on sick leave at home, spending time with his baby girl and recovering from the fight. If she remembered correctly, Tim had gotten the worst of it- a broken nose, bruised rib, and broken shoulder that required two weeks downtime to heal.

"_Ken,_ I remember. Tony got a couple teeth knocked out, and the only reason the fight stopped was because Gibbs broke it up by firing his gun into the ceiling." She held his face in her hands, gently brushing her thumb along his nose. He winced lightly, and she bit her lip. "Sorry, baby." He shook his head. After a moment, she unbuttoned his pajama top, pushing it off his shoulders. Their lips met in a kiss, and he gently tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer. As he tugged gently on her lower lip, he opened his eyes.

She was scratched, her face_ bloody_, as though she'd just been in a fight. There was a gunshot wound to her temple, and-

He let out startled cry, pulling away from her. "Baby, what is it? Baby?" When he blinked, his wife was whole, unhurt, as beautiful now as she'd been the day they'd met. Her dark eyes were filled with confusion. "Tim? Timothy, baby, talk to me. What's wrong?" He shook his head, taking a deep breath.

"Nothing, sweetheart. Just... just exhausted, that's all. Maybe another night, okay?" She nodded as he knelt down and grabbed his shirt, pulling it back on and buttoning it before climbing into bed. Ziva turned to him, thinking.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay, Tim?" He looked up at her.

"Of course I'm okay, Zi. Why?" She opened her mouth, crossing her arms.

"Just... you're starting to act like our son." He raised an eyebrow, and pulled the bed back on her side.

"Would you just come to bed?" Slowly she did as told. "I promise you, I'm fine. I'm just tired. Work was exhausting and then dealing with Asher-" He sighed. "I'm just tired, is all."

"You're sure that's all it is?" Ziva asked, slipping into bed beside him. He nodded, reaching up to take her face in his hand. "_Ken_, Zi, I promise. I'm just tired. Nothing for you to worry about." He ended the statement with a kiss; her fingers slid up to brush against his cheek, and she smiled into the kiss. As they turned off the lights and settled down, Tim wrapped his arms around her. Ziva glanced over her shoulder at him, unable to fight the nagging feeling that Tim hadn't been entirely honest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The news was on low the next morning, around five-thirty. Tim set a cup of coffee in front of his wife with a kiss, returning to the small television in the living room and turning it up. He sighed. "They think that flight crashed in the Pacific somewhere." Ziva looked up from her work. The kids sat at the kitchen table, sharing glances over breakfast and hardly saying a word. Tim himself was also quiet, and if it weren't for the perking of the coffeepot or the news anchor on the TV, Ziva probably would have gone nuts.

"Flight four-fifteen?" She asked; Tim glanced over his shoulder and nodded. A moment passed before she got up, going to him. He was perched on the edge of the sofa, watching intently. Ziva perched on the arm, laying a hand on his back. "Have they found anything yet?" Tim shook his head.

"What is four-fifteen?" Zipporah asked, taking a bit of her cereal.

"It's that plane that disappeared after takeoff from Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. And do not talk with your mouth full, Zipporah Rani, it is not polite." The girl didn't reply. It wasn't so bad when her mother used only one of her middle names; to use both meant she was in deep, never-ending trouble. Ziva turned her attention back to the report. "Five hundred and twenty-nine passengers and crew. All dead. I cannot even imagine." She whispered, getting up and turning to go back into the kitchen.

"I can." Tim whispered, looking over his shoulder at her. She stopped, meeting his gaze. "We lost six times that if not more when the towers fell on Nine-Eleven. "This is nothing compared to that, Zi." He sighed. "Sometimes, you have to count your blessings, and other times, you have to realize how close you came only to understand how you were able to cheat death." Ziva opened her mouth to speak, but she never got the chance.

"Turn it up, Tim."

_"... the bodies of Ian McDougall and his wife Elizabeth were found in their home early this morning around two. Upon examination of the bodies, it was discovered that the two had been shot to death in their beds. Witnesses report seeing the forty-five-year-old McDougall get into a fight with James Kirkpatrick, forty, the day before in his store. Kirkpatrick was shoved through the window of the store and then shot at point blank range..."_

"Doesn't Ian McDougall own-" Tim nodded, as Zipporah dropped her spoon. Reaching down to get it, she knocked her cereal bowl over, spilling the milk. The children shared glances as their parents rushed into the kitchen, the news report forgotten. Zipporah burst into tears. "Oh, _Zipporah_!"

"I'm sorry, _Ima_!" She cried, as milk dripped onto the floor and dried on her uniform. Ziva sighed.

"It... it is fine. Go upstairs and change. _Abba_ and I will clean up the mess." The girl didn't move. "Go, Zipporah! _Now_! _Achshav_!" After a moment, the child rushed off. She turned back to her husband. "I swear, that child-"

"Who died?" Tim looked up from wiping the mess as Ziva put the bowl and spoon into the sink. She'd stick them both in the dishwasher later. Asher glanced between his parents, silent.

"Ian McDougall. He owns the Old-Time General Store, remember?" Tim replied, standing. He tossed the wet towel in the washing machine and came back into the kitchen to find his sons sharing glances that screamed a thousand words. "What's going on?" Neither boy met his gaze. After a moment, Liron got up.

"M... may I go get my backpack, _Ima_?" He asked, staring down at his shoes. Ziva sighed, crossing her arms.

"_Ken_, you may." The boy rushed off, and Ziva and Tim turned to their oldest. Asher still hadn't moved, but he looked up when Ziva took a seat in the chair beside him. "Talk to us." He kept quiet. Gently, Ziva reached out and took her son's chin in her hand. "Asher, talk to us. What's wrong?"

"You know you can tell us anything, sweetheart." Tim whispered, taking a seat across from his son. The boy met his father's identical gaze, sniffling.

"The... the fight we saw yesterday..." He whispered. Tim and Ziva shared a glance. "It... it was them..." He pointed towards the living room, to the report that had earlier flashed across the screen. "He... he pushed the other man out the window and... and then shot him..." Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he glanced at his parents. "Called him a... a p... pr... Protestant... bitch." Ziva glanced at Tim, who'd closed his eyes and taken a deep breath.

"Asher, why didn't you_ say_ anything?"

"Because I thought he'd... come after us..." He replied, meeting his father's eyes.

"And so last night, when you attacked _Abba_ with your curling broom-" Ziva whispered.

_"I thought it was... him..."_ The boy choked out, turning to his mother. "_I'm sorry_,_ Abba_._ I didn't mean to_!" Tim shook his head.

"It's okay." He reached over, taking his son's hand and gently rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, something Tim did with all his kids to calm them. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Zipporah and Liron sneak into the kitchen. A moment passed, before Ziva reached up, gently holding her hand to her son's forehead.

"You're not going into school today. None of you are." She decided, standing. Asher looked up, horrified.

"But... _but Ima-"_

"No."

_"But that's not-" _

_"We can't-"_

_"That's enough!"_ The children immediately stopped protesting as their mother raised her voice._ "You've made yourselves sick because of this! You can afford to miss one day of school! Besides, the summer holidays are coming up at the end of the week, and I am sure your teachers will understand!"_ She grabbed the phone, quickly dialing the schools' numbers. While Ziva was on the phone, Tim got up, gesturing for Asher to follow. After a moment, he did, taking a seat on the sofa in the living room. Tim turned the TV off, meeting his son's gaze.

"Why didn't you tell us this last night?" The boy didn't meet his father's gaze. Gently, Tim reached up, tilting his son's head up to stare into his face. "Asher, talk to me." The boy swallowed.

"Because... because I thought he would come after you and kill you... and... it would be like my nightmare..." He sniffled, as Tim sighed.

"Asher, sweetheart, you have to understand, nothing is going to happen to me. I'm not going anywhere. Nothing could take me from you or _Ima_. Or your brother and sister. I won't allow it. And I _won't allow_ you to go on keeping this buried inside. Because it'll kill you one day, or worse, you'll kill someone else. That's where you and your _Ima_ are exactly alike. Both stubborn to the tee." He sighed. "Asher, you have to understand, I'm not going anywhere. I'm your father, I wouldn't dare leave you. You are too precious for me to leave behind. And as far as this nightmare... I will listen, sweetheart, you just have to trust me, okay? I'm your father, that's why I'm here, to listen." He reached up, gently holding his son's chin in his hand.

The boy nodded, and Tim kissed his forehead. He pulled back, gently brushing his hand over his son's head. "You do feel a bit warm. I think _Ima_'s right. You're making yourselves sick, and the last thing you need to do is go to school and infect everyone before summer gets here." He gently brushed the dark curls off his son's forehead, pressing another kiss to the soft skin.

Ziva came into the room. "Your teachers said it was fine, and for you all to get some rest. Which you can do after we stop by the police station."

"_Why?"_ Asher cried. Ziva met her son's gaze.

"Because you _need_ to tell them what you've told us. All they will do is take a statement and place it in the file. And then we can come home, and you three can rest and calm." She turned to Tim. "I already called in to both our offices. All I had to do was say the words 'sick children' and they agreed. Both are parents, so they understood." She turned to Zipporah and Liron. "Are we clear?"

All three nodded in unison. _"Ken, Ima."_


	10. Chapter 10

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Guest for reviewing 5; silvermoon217 for reviewing 9; and Reader for reviewing 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9.**

The kids had gone into the station and told the officers what they'd seen- a statement had been taken and file- and then Ziva and Tim had taken the children home and marched them upstairs, telling them to lie down and rest. None of the kids had missed much school- a total of about eight absences for all three, including today- and so Ziva and Tim weren't concerned with the amount of missed school as much as they were with the health of their children. With the children upstairs, Tim turned on the TV, leaving it on the news before heading up the stairs. Ziva was sitting at the table, looking through a recipe book, and Tim knew she'd appreciate the background noise.

Once upstairs, Tim slipped into Zipporah's room and laid a journal on his daughter's desk. The journal had pink and purple hearts on it- they knew the little girl would love it. He gently brushed her dark curls of her forehead and tucked the blanket around her tighter before leaving the room. When he checked on Liron, the younger boy was curled up under the blankets, wide awake, with a book. Tim sighed. "You are supposed t' be resting, not reading." The boy yawned, and Tim gently took the novel out of his hands, marking his place and setting it on the nightstand.

"But, Abba-" Liron yawned, reaching for the book. Tim shook his head, placing the Harry Potter journal on top of the book.

"Harry, Hermione and Ron will still be here waiting for you once you're rested okay, sweetheart?" The boy whimpered softly but nodded, and Tim gently brushed his fingers through his son's curls. "Get some sleep." He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead; the boy was still slightly warm- all three of their children had slight fevers, and Tim began to realize that it was a good thing they'd kept them home from school. Slipping out of his son's room, he looked up, hearing Jethro's soft growl. Shaking his head, Tim pressed a finger to his lips, and the dog instantly quieted, letting his master lip beside him and into Asher's room.

The boy looked up as Tim shut the door softly behind him. He gave his son a small smile, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. After a moment, Tim handed his son the black moleskin journal with the lined pages. Slowly, Asher sat up and took it, glancing at his father. "What's this?"

"A journal. So you can write down all your nightmares, and everything you're feeling. _Ima_ and I won't read it unless you want us too." The boy looked down at it, opening it up and running his fingers over the soft, white-lined pages. "Just like the ones Fitzgerald and Hemingway used to write in." A small, fleeting smile passed over his son's face.

_"Toda, Abba."_ Tim returned to small smile.

_"Al lo davar."_ He reached up, brushing the dark curls of his son's forehead, before pressing a kiss to the boy's slightly feverish skin. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart." He stood. "_Ima_ and I will be downstairs if you need us." Before Asher could say anything, Tim left.

* * *

Ziva looked up as Tim came into the living room. She'd found the recipe she wanted to use and set it aside, before curling up on the sofa in the living room and turning the TV up. It was a new report on the missing Israeli flight. "Did they like their journals?"

"Zipporah's sound asleep, and I had to force Liron to put Harry and his friends back on the shelf for a while so he could get some sleep, and... Asher seemed happy with his." He took a seat beside her on the sofa; she quickly shifted her legs into his lap before curling into his side. Resting one elbow on the back of the sofa, she reached out and began running her fingers through her husband's hair. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

"What do we do? How do we... handle this? Handle him?"

"He's our son, Zi." Tim replied, hearing the soft ping! on the laptop. Ziva removed her legs from his lap and moved closer as Tim moved to open the Skype view. "We don't handle him, we protect him and let him decide when to come to us." She sighed.

"I don't like it, Tim. Asher's never acted like this before-"

"Acted like what, Zivaleh?" Her head snapped up, and she found herself staring into her baby sister's dark eyes.

"Tali! Hey, long time no see, ranger!" She replied, as the younger woman chuckled.

"Stranger, Zi. Not ranger. _Stranger_. You'd think by now-" She punched her husband hard in the shoulder, glaring at him. "Ow! What was that for?" Tali laughed, as Michael joined her.

"For being a smartass." She replied, as the sound of footsteps pounded in the background of the kitchen. Benjamin and Esther soon joined their parents, excited to see their aunt and uncle.

"Ziva Doda! Tim Dohd! Hi!" Tim and Ziva chuckled, waving to the kids.

"Hey you two, how're you doing?" Tim asked. Esther grinned.

"I won the science fair today!"

"That's wonderful, Esther." Ziva replied. They chatted for several minutes, catching each other up, before Tali turned to Tim.

"We had Damon and Sarah over for dinner today, and they have something they wanted to tell you." She turned, beckoning someone into the frame. "Go ahead, Sarit." Tim smiled softly at his little sister as she took a seat on the sofa.

"Hey, Timmy."

"Hey, Sar. How you doing?" She shrugged.

"Good. I miss you." Tim glanced at his wife, taking her hand.

"I miss you too. So, what's so important?" His little sister took a deep breath, reaching for her husband's hand.

"I... I know you told Damon and I to wait at least a couple years, and we would have, but... but we won't get the chance. Timmy, I'm pregnant." Her brother's green eyes widened in surprise, and it took a few minutes for him to speak.

"That... that's wonderful, Sar. Congrats." She grinned softly.

"Oh, Sarah... when are you due?" Ziva whispered. Her sister-in-law glanced at her husband.

"Due around Halloween. I'm twenty weeks; Tali's my midwife." She turned to her brother. "Are you happy, Timmy?" He blinked the tears away.

"Sar, I'm thrilled. Shocked, but... but thrilled. I wish I could be there." Sarah took a deep breath.

"Say you'll be down for Halloween, Timmy, please. I want you there for the birth of my baby." He glanced at his wife, licking his lips.

"I'll try, Sarah. I won't make any promises, but I'll try." His little sister grinned. "I love you, Sarah."


	11. Chapter 11

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The summer holidays had finally arrived, and with it, the violence that had started a week prior- shootings, beatings, robberies, kidnappings. Kids were told by their parents to stay inside, and if they did go out, they were to go out with friends and stick together. The shooting in Clontarf had been the match that lit the fuse; the double murder, the fuse that caused the dynamite to explode. Tim and Ziva did all they could to keep things normal for the kids, but it was hard.

"_Ima_?" Ziva looked up one warm July afternoon from her baking.

"_Ken_, my songbird?" Zipporah licked her lips.

"Can I go to the library?" Her mother stopped kneading the dough, and looked up at her daughter. Tim was in the living room, teaching Liron- who had begged his father- how to play chess, and Asher was curled up by the window, his head buried in a copy of_ The Brothers Karamazov_. Asher had taken to writing in his 'nightmare' journal daily, filling page after page with his fears and memories of growing up those first eight years of his young life in Israel. By the beginning of the summer holidays, Tim and Ziva had gotten him four more journals, all of which he'd filled to the point where he was even writing on the inside covers.

A moment passed, as Ziva brushed a strand of dark hair off her forehead, leaving a streak of flour in its place. "Not by yourself, Zipporaleh." The girl sighed. Her mother only rarely used the diminutive for her name- removing the 'h' at the end and adding the 'leh'.

"But _Ima_-" Ziva returned to her kneading. Over the last several weeks, Ziva had turned to baking as a way to relax and calm. All the reports on the news and in the papers were making her nervous, and a part of her itched to reach for her gun and go hunting the lowlifes who'd decided to wreak havoc on their quiet coastal town. Both she and Tim- being former government law enforcement- were allowed to keep handguns, as long as they were locked up in a safe, which they were. Ziva's head snapped up.

"No! You are not going out alone! Not with the way people are acting!" The child pouted, stamping her foot.

"That's not-"

"Zipporah!" Ziva sighed, turning to her husband. "Will you talk to your daughter?" Tim looked up as he entered the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

"So when she acts up, she's my daughter?" He asked, pressing a kiss to his child's head. Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Of course she is. I carried her for nine months,_ I_ gave birth to her. _I_ did the hard part. It's your turn now." Tim shook his head, gently ruffling his daughter's hair.

"You can go-" The child let out a shriek of excitement, throwing her arms around her father.

_"Toda, Abba!" _

_"But_, your brothers are going to go with you."

_"Abba!"_ Tim raised an eyebrow, but Zipporah didn't stamp her foot or do anything but glare.

"I'm sorry, Zipporah, but it's too dangerous for you to go out by yourself. Your brothers are going to go with you, or you won't go at all, are we clear?" After a moment, she nodded.

"_Ken, Abba_. Clear."

* * *

Tim sighed, standing at the doorway, as Zipporah tugged her brothers out of the front yard. "I have a bad feeling about this, Zi." She joined him, leaning against his side. "A very, very bad feeling about this."

"Why? She will be fine, Timothy. Her brothers are with her, Asher and Liron will not let anything happen to Zipporah." She replied, pulling away and going back to the kitchen. Tim sighed, following. He watched as his wife removed the bread from the oven and set it on the wire rack to cool.

"I know, I just... I just remember listening to Penny's stories about the Troubles when I was kid." He took a seat at the table, propping his head on his hand. Ziva set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him before taking a seat beside him with her own. "By time I was born in Munich, they were already conducting peace talks between Ireland and England, but I still remember spending my summers here and going up to Northern Ireland to visit friends and..." He rubbed a hand over his face. "And seeing all the makeshift memorials left for the people that died." He caught the confusion in Ziva's gaze. "Sarah and I delighted in our summers with Penny, because it meant for a couple months, that we were away from our parents and loved." She nodded, sipping her coffee.

"Um, Tim, what..." She bit her lip. "What are the... the Troubles?" He returned his head to his hand, and turned to look at her.

"You want the Merriam-Webster Dictionary definition or mine?" She shrugged.

"Both, I guess." She replied. He sighed.

"The definition in the dictionary is _'the political violence in Ireland during the 1920s or in Northern Ireland between the late 1960s and the late 1990s._'" She nodded, drinking in the information.

"Oh... and what's your definition?"

He thought a moment and then got up, going into the living room as he spoke. "The Troubles started in Northern Ireland in the late nineteen-tens, continued through the Irish Civil War in the twenties, came to a boiling point in the seventies and eighties, and finally," He came back with a scrapbook and a few books on the subject, setting them on the table as he took a seat. "came to a stop in the late nineties." He opened the scrapbook; Ziva leaned close, surprised to find newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping on the subject. "Penny always said it was important to keep articles in regards to the fighting because it was a part of our past, a part of my and Sarah's heritage."

"So... this happened all through Ireland?" He shook his head.

"No. The southern half of Ireland-"

"Where we live?" He nodded.

"We live in the Republic of Ireland. It's a sovereign state, but there are still people who consider it part of Britain. The Troubles were in Northern Ireland only. It was between the Protestants and Catholics, the Republicans and the Paramilitary Loyalists, the British Security Forces and the Irish Republican Army, and various civil rights groups. The Irish wanted the British out of Ireland, the British wanted the Irish to bend to British rule. Both Catholic and Protestant tried to claim Ireland for their own and shove the other group out; civil rights groups were claiming abuse..." He waved it all away. "You get the picture." She nodded. "The point is, thousands- and I mean, thousands- of people were killed, innocent people, mainly. Men, women and children who had no part in the fighting were killed by both sides. Cars and houses were bombed; I remember once, Penny took Sarah and I to the sight of McGurk's- it had been a Catholic bar that was bombed by the UVF; it was a... loyalist group that favored the paramilitary movement- and it killed fifteen and wounded over seventeen. Penny lost a friend in that bombing." He sighed.

She leaned close, looking through the scrapbooks. "Rubber bullets?" She'd heard of a lot of ammunition, but never this.

"Aye. They were supposed to be non-lethal alternative projectiles used for riot control. Problem is, they kill. They aren't supposed to, but they hit just right, and they're fatal." He glanced at the articles. "I remember seeing them on the street and rushing to collect them because I thought they were so cool. I didn't know the history behind them; Penny never told us. She let me keep them. I was kid, I didn't know any better, and I didn't know why they were there until I got older and studied the Troubles in school. I kept them, but I've never looked at them the same way since."

"So... what exactly are you afraid of, Tim?" He sighed, reaching over and taking her hand. "If the Troubles were in Northern Ireland, then... then that means they weren't here, which probably means they won't be here." He shook his head, squeezing her hand.

"That's what I'm afraid of, Zi. Just because the Troubles were in Northern Ireland, doesn't mean they won't make it to the Republic. What the kids witnessed, it could just be the start..."


	12. Chapter 12

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"Can we go to the bookstore, brother?" Asher shook his head, holding tight to his siblings' hands. "Why not?"

"Because we told _Ima_ we'd come right home, Zippa, remember?"

"But that's not fair." The girl pouted, and Asher rolled his eyes. He glanced at Liron, who shook his head.

_"Ima_ and _Abba_ don't want us out in case something bad happens. They don't want us to get hurt." Asher replied.

"But we won't get hurt! It's the bookstore! Nothing bad happens at the bookstore!"

"Nothing bad happens at the grocery store _either_." Liron muttered. Asher nodded, shuttering. Half his first journal had been filled up on that one day, and he wanted desperately to forget it. Zipporah ignored her brother.

"Please, can we go in and just look around? I promise, I'll just look around. Please, brother? Please?" Asher watched Zipporah, and then glanced at the clock on his cellphone. While Tim and Ziva hadn't given them a _set time_ to be home, just to be home before it got dark out. He thought a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. He hated it when Zipporah begged, but, being the only girl, she tended to get her way. Asher had once heard Gibbs tell Tim and Ziva that his baby sister would have everyone wrapped around her little finger from the moment she was born. And she did. The only ones that _didn't_ bend to Zipporah's will were their parents. Her brothers weren't so lucky.

"Fine. But we only look around for a few minutes, and then we have to go home, okay?" The girl squealed, throwing her arms around her brother. As she dashed off to grab the door, Liron turned to him.

"Why do you give in?" Asher glared at him.

"Why do _you_?" A moment passed, before Liron replied,

"Why couldn't _Abba_ and _Ima_ have a brother? Why did they have to have a_ sister_?" As they followed Zipporah into the small bookstore, an explosion shook the street two stores down.

* * *

Ziva was sound asleep on the sofa, the news playing softly in the background. Tim was working on a chapter of his novel, only vaguely listening. He just happened to glance up as footage appeared of a bombing on Main. It panned over the damage, and then moved to scan the survivors of the two stores directly beside the one that had exploded.

"That... that can't..." He rewound the footage, pausing it as he heart dropped into the ground at his feet. "Ziva! Ziva, wake up!_ Ziva_!" She swatted him away, before finally opening her eyes.

"Tim, what..." But her husband grabbed her hands and hauled her to her feet.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get the kids."

* * *

Main street was filled with chaos. Police vehicles, paramedics, anxious relatives searching for loved ones. Tim had explained what he'd seen on the news on the way down, and when they were able to park, Tim was out of the car, Ziva forced to catch up. "Tim! _Timothy, stop! Wait!_ How can you_ possibly_ know-" He ignored her, green gaze searching the victims and survivors for the faces of his children.

_"Abba! Abba!"_ Ziva took a deep breath and rushed after her husband as he ducked under the yellow crime tape.

"Those are our children!" He snapped at the officer. As soon as he got close enough, Zipporah launched herself into her father's arms, as the boys rushed to Ziva. "What the... what the hell were you doing in there?" He demanded, pulling away to search his daughter's face. It was the female paramedic that answered.

"_Yer_ children are very lucky, Mr. McGee. The blast only caused minimal damage to the bookstore. If they'd been walking past and the bomb had gone off, none of them would have survived." Ziva knelt down, burying her face in her boys' small shoulders. "They've got a few cuts and bruises, but they'll be fine. _Ye_ and_ yer_ wife can take them home." Tim nodded, thanking her before taking the three onto the other side of the tape and turning to the question at hand.

"What the hell were you three doing in the bookstore?" Tim asked, kneeling down to his children's level. Zipporah had tear in her eyes.

"I asked brother if we could go in, _Abba_. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I didn't know we'd get hurt... We tried to help..." She burst into tears, and Tim pulled his daughter into his arms. Ziva met his gaze. Both knew that this time, they couldn't fault the little girl for wanting to look at the new books just in print. For once, her begging about stopping to look at something had saved their lives.

"We know you didn't, sweetheart." He pressed a kiss to her head. "You are a very smart little girl, to stop and ask. And you three are very brave to try and help the other people. You understand? All of you understand?" The kids nodded. "You are all very, very brave, and _Ima_ and I are so proud of you."

* * *

She sighed; Asher was curled up on the sofa beside his mother, lost in his thoughts. Ziva's fingers moved gently through her son's curls. "I said no." She glanced down, meeting her son's eyes. "I told Zippa no at first. That we had to walk straight home." She swallowed, staying silent. "I'm sorry, _Ima_. I should have insisted..." Gently, she tilted her son's chin up to search his eyes.

"Didn't you hear the paramedic today, my angel? If you hadn't gone into the bookstore, you wouldn't have survived. So you giving into your sister, for once, it's a good thing." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him close, humming softly to him until his eyes closed. After a moment, she looked up, meeting Tim's eyes. She knew what he was thinking, and prayed he was wrong.


	13. Chapter 13

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Dublin was bustling; it seemed so far removed from the violence that had gripped the coastal towns. Asher turned to his father; there were a few errands Tim had to run in Dublin and Asher had begged to come along. His father had agreed, deciding it would be a good way for the two to get to understand each other a bit better. After all, neither one were the fishing type. "_Abba_?" Tim glanced at his son. The boy thought a moment. "Can... can we get coffee?" His father chuckled and nodded.

"Sure. Let me just drop this off and then we can go." Ten minutes later, the two walked through a park, coffee in hand. Asher rarely had coffee, Ziva wouldn't allow it, but today, Tim decided that the boy could do with a little caffeine.

"_Abba_?"

"What is it, sweetheart?" Asher bit his lip, thinking.

"What are the... the Troubles?" Tim stopped, surprised.

"Who told you about the Troubles?"

"No one. I... I found your... scrapbook with... with all the... the newspapers... and..." He swallowed. "What were they?"

Tim sighed. "They were... a decades long period of fighting, unrest and violence in Ireland, that last from the late nineteen-tens to the late nineties."

"Oh... did people die?" Tim nodded, sipping his coffee.

"Thousands of people. Men, women and children. Most were caught in the crossfire, they had no part in the fighting. A lot of them were Catholics, or Protestants. Those were- and still are- the two biggest religious groups in all of Ireland."

"What are we?" His father thought a moment.

"Well,_ Ima_ is Jewish, and I was raised a Protestant." Asher paled, frightened. Gently, Tim squeezed his son's shoulder. "I will be fine. We will be fine. Okay? You have nothing to worry about." After a moment, the boy swallowed, nodding.

"So... so it's... over?"

"That's the thing. Violence has been happening in regards to the Troubles even after the peace talks and treaties were drawn up. What I'm worried about, is that it's happening all over again, only this time, instead of Northern Ireland, it's happening here, in the Republic."

* * *

"Hi." Asher looked up from his book; the girl standing in front of him was shuffling her feet nervously. "Can.. can I sit by you?" After a moment, he moved over. She took a seat, looking around. "What are you reading?" He held it up. "_Great Gatsby_? I love that book. It's my favorite."

"I.. I like it to." She nodded, staring down at the floor.

"I'm Devin. Devin O'Maura." He swallowed, burying his nose in his book as he whispered his name. "I didn't hear that."

"I... I said I'm... Asher McGee." He whispered. She studied him for a moment, before realization seemed to dawn.

"Zipporah is your little sister, right? She's cute." He nodded, silent. "I go to Belgrove, too, and I take Irish dance at the same school Zipporah and Liron do. _Me Da_ works at the Dublin Hospital here. Trauma unit." He nodded, studying her. The girl was cute; long red hair pulled back in a French braid, and- surprisingly- light blue eyes. The same eye color Mr. Gibbs possessed. She was fair, with a smattering of freckles across her nose. She looked about his age.

"You live in Clontarf?" He asked, as if just now registering what she'd said. The girl nodded, giggling.

"_Aye_, I do." He blushed, going back to his book. Asher was never so relieved when his father came back, but he was surprised to see an older woman with him.

"Ah, I see Devin's met Asher." The boy started, surprised his father knew the woman, and he quickly scurried off the bench and hid behind his father. Tim rolled his eyes. "Asher, this is Enya O'Maura. Her daughter Devin goes to Belgrove also."

"I already told him, Mr. McGee. I dance with Zipporah." Devin replied, softly. Tim chuckled.

"Yes, well, Asher spends most of his time buried in his books. Not that it's a bad thing, but it would be good if he got out from behind the volumes every once and a while." Once they parted ways, Asher asked,

"How do you know her, _Abba_?" Tim glanced down at his son.

"Her mother works with me. And they don't live far from us." A moment passed before Tim pressed a kiss to his son's dark curls. "She was cute, wasn't she?" The boy thought a moment, and then shrugged.

"For a girl." Tim rolled his eyes.

"You'll be thinking differently some day." The boy shook his head.

"No I won't." His father chuckled.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

* * *

Ziva looked up, in time to see Sarah lean back on the sofa at home. "Hey Sarah, how're you feeling?" It was mid-June, and Sarah was twenty-three weeks into her pregnancy, and she, like Ziva had with Asher, was at the period of wanting to sleep, when all the baby wanted to do was move around at the same time.

"I don't see how you did this alone, Ziva. She's driving me nuts with all her movement." Ziva's eyes widened.

"You.. you are having a little girl?" Sarah nodded.

"Damon and I found out yesterday."

"Oh, Sarah, _Mazel Tov_! Have you started the nursery yet?" Sarah nodded.

"Blue. Like you and Timmy did."

"That's-"

"_Ima_?" Ziva turned; Zipporah stood in the living room, eyes wide with fright, the nap she'd had long gone. She turned back to her sister-in-law.

"Sarah, I-" The younger woman waved it away.

"Go be a Mama. I'm gonna go try and get some sleep, and hope this little one doesn't play soccer with my insides." As the two signed off, Ziva turned and held out a hand; Zipporah rushed to her mother, climbing into her lap and burying her face in her mother's chest.

"What is it, my songbird? Hmm? What's wrong?" She gently stroked her daughter's hair, a moment of envy gripping her heart as she thought of Sarah, and a small part of her wished she could go back and experience it all over again. She shook her head. No, her time had been then, this was Sarah's time. She had enjoyed all three of her pregnancies, treasured them, but found that she treasured motherhood even more. "Hey, talk to me." Gently, she lifted her daughter's head to stare into her eyes. "What happened?" Softly, the girl whispered,

"Nightmare."


	14. Chapter 14

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"Zipporah had the same nightmare Asher's been having." Ziva said, climbing into bed that night. Tim sighed, pulling her close and rubbing her back.

"Any idea what it means?" She glared at him over her shoulder.

"I'm not a mind reader, Timothy." He chuckled.

"No, you're a _mother_. That's better than a mind reader." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to her head, whispering, "You know Enya and Richard O'Maura?" She turned to him.

"Of course I know them; don't you? You work with Enya, and they live right up the street. Their daughter dances with-"

"Liron and Zipporah, I know. But I was saying, is that Asher doesn't know them. Or he didn't, until today. I ran into Enya and Devin in Dublin, and Asher-"

"Hid, like he does around people he doesn't now?" Tim nodded. She shook her head. "He has to get out of his spell."

"Shell." Tim corrected gently. "And I know. He only ever opens up around us or his friends in Curling. He needs someone to pull him out when he's not at home." She pulled away, turning to face him.

"Timothy McGee, are you_ suggesting_ we set our son up with Devin?" He shrugged.

"Just a suggestion, Zi." He replied with a kiss. As they settled down, Ziva curled up on his chest, whispering,

"Sarah wanted me to tell you, that... you are going to have a niece in four months." Tim pulled away to look at her, shocked.

* * *

_"... two car bombs have shaken Dublin, leaving half a block covered in debris and death..."_ Ziva shook her head; it made her sick, to think that the city had finally been hit by the violence that rocked Clontarf and the other coastal towns for weeks.

"They're saying the Troubles have come back, Tim." She said, going into the kitchen and reaching out, rubbing his shoulders. He sighed, deleting what he'd written.

"You mean come to the Republic." He corrected gently, running a hand through his hair. She continued to work on his shoulders, working the knots out of his back, pressing a kiss to his head.

"Sixteen bombings, nineteen kidnappings and thirty-two murders in the last_ two months_." He folded his hands, resting his chin on them.

"How many more are going to die this time around?" He whispered, pushing his laptop aside. She continued working on his shoulders until he got up, going to the counter and leaning against it, staring out the window. The kids played outside with Jethro, rolling around in the grass and laughing as the dog licked them and bounced around them. They'd promised to stay in the backyard, and come in immediately if anything suspicious caught their attention. "How many more innocent lives are going to be stolen before they even begin?" Ziva sighed, gripping the back of the chair, hand on her other hip.

"It is getting dangerous." She shook her head, crossing her arms as she went to her husband. "It reminds me of growing up in Israel. I don't like it, Tim." She looked up at him, seeing the fear in his eyes. But before he could reply, a distant whistling reached their ears.

_"Get down!"_ Tim grabbed his wife around the waist, shoving her to the ground as a bullet broke through the window, flying past, only to embed itself in the front door. Several minutes passed, before they heard the back door open and the children come in, followed by Jethro.

_"Abba?" _

_"Get down, all of you!"_ Tim snapped.

"_Abba, what's happening_?" Liron asked, holding onto Jethro as the dog lay on the ground with them. Tim shook his head, and got to his feet, keeping low.

"Stay down, Ziva." She moved to stand, but he shook his head. "_Stay_!"

By the time he got the phone and called police, things had calmed. The family was outside in the front as the police inspected the house. Tim was being looked at- due to the quick reaction, he'd only been nicked on the arm by the projectile, but the sight of the blood on his shirt was enough to scare the kids. _"Well?"_ He demanded when he was finally released from the paramedics, going to the officer. The man shrugged.

"_'twas_ a stray. Most likely shot somewhere else and ended up here. Not uncommon-"

"_Aye_, I know. Former Federal agent for over ten years; I'm very _well-versed_ in bullets being fired and ending up where they _shouldn't_ be." He glanced at his wife, pulling her close. "What I_ wanna_ know, is why our house? It could have _killed_ my wife or my children!" The man held up a hand.

"I understand_ yer_ upset, Mr. McGee. And like I said before, _'twas_ a stray... _'twas_ most likely fired... blocks or miles away, missed its target, and found a new one."

* * *

_"Abba? Abba."_ Tim's eyes snapped open as he realized he was being shaken, and he sat up, surprised to find all three of his children in their room. Ziva jerked awake as Tim sat up, falling off his chest and back into the mattress.

"Tim? What's going on?" She asked, yawning. She reached for the light and flicked it on, checking the time in the process. "It's one in the morn-" She stopped, seeing her children by the side of the bed. "Ah... you three are supposed to be in bed." Liron swallowed, whispering,

"Can... can we sleep with you? We're..."

"We're scared." Zipporah whispered, holding Mr. Bunny Rabbit close. Tim and Ziva shared a look.

"Because of this afternoon?" Tim asked. All three nodded. He sighed, catching is wife's eye. They hadn't faced this type of reaction since Jackson's death. After a moment, Ziva nodded.

"_Ken_, you may join us." She replied, pulling back the blankets. Zipporah immediately climbed into the bed, curling into Tim's side. Liron and Asher joined them, and Ziva pulled her boys into her arms, pressing kisses to their dark curls as Jethro hopped onto the end and settled down, ears tuned to protect his owners and their pups if need be. As Ziva gently hummed a soft lullaby, explosions could be heard- faint and far away, but still frightening. Zipporah buried her face in Tim's shirt.

"Are they good people or bad people, _Ima_?" Liron whispered, fear in his voice. Ziva held her sons close, pressing firm kisses to their head. She met Tim's gaze as he gently ran his fingers through Zipporah's hair to calm her, and Jethro growled softly, as if his warning could make the explosions go away. In a voice just as shaky, she whispered,

"... I don't know, my joy. I don't know."


	15. Chapter 15

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"We have to tell them, Tim. We can't just keep this a secret. They watch the news, this is probably on every world news channel in America!" Tim ignored her. He was staring at a blank screen on his laptop, having scrapped his entire novel. He rubbed his hands, folding them on the table, sighing. "Timothy, are you listening to me!"

"What good would it do, Ziva?" He asked softly, not meeting her gaze.

Four weeks had gone by since the bullet had passed through their kitchen window, and things were getting more and more dangerous. Every morning, another bombing, killing, kidnapping, strike, or murder was on the news; parents were refusing to let their children go outside without them; running errands was impossible, when you didn't know which stores were rigged to explode and which weren't. The fight between the Catholics and Protestants had taken hold, and both sides set to killing those they deemed the enemy. The peace and calm that had filled the sovereign Republic of Ireland was quickly being replaced with the danger and destruction the north had faced decades earlier.

Ziva talked to Tali and Sarah on a regular basis, and every time, Sarah asked if she and Tim would be there for the birth of her daughter, and Ziva would just smile and tell her maybe. It was the one shred of decency Ziva could give her sisters without worrying them. It was the one thing she could picture that she knew wouldn't be touched by the violence her children were facing- that her niece would be born in a country that wasn't gripped by fear and hate.

If only her own children had been so lucky.

"It would let them know that we are okay. That the children are okay." She replied, taking a seat beside him. He shook his head.

"No, what it would do, would send Tali into a panic, and if Sarah found out, she could lose the baby. I'm not going to let that happen. They stay out of it, all of them." He replied, meeting her gaze as she grabbed his chin.

"Then we tell Gibbs, and Tony and Ducky."

"And get them involved in another country's issues? I don't think so, Zi. Besides, we haven't talk to them in months." He replied, getting up. She watched as he went to the stairs; they could hear the kids playing Scrabble in the hallway, Jethro laying beside them, playing guard dog. Their innocent laughter tugged at his heart, and he blinked away tears. "They're the innocent ones. They aren't supposed to live in a world like this. We grew up in violence and danger, this wasn't supposed to be how they grew up. This wasn't meant for our kids." He turned as she joined him, taking a seat on the stairs. "They're the new generation, they're supposed to stop this, not be destroyed by it. Violence, it... it destroyed my father, it nearly destroyed you... and what my dad suffered, nearly destroyed me." Ziva took his hand, lacing their fingers. "This is the generation that's supposed to fight for peace, not fight for violence."

"I know, baby." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know."

* * *

The waves crashed at their feet; despite the violence going on, Tim and Ziva had allowed the children to go the beach as long as they were back way before dark and went with friends. So the O'Reilly kids had joined them, as well as a couple of the girls Zipporah and Liron danced with, and Devin O'Maura. They played in the water and sand, enjoying the sun and the chance to be children, away from the horror that gripped the town and country they lived in.

Asher sat on his towel, book in hand, hair still damp from the water. He liked the beach, but he preferred it when his parents were with them, when they went walking after dinner, and the sun was beginning to set on the blue of the ocean. Jethro lay beside him, enjoying the sun. He looked up at the sound of laughter, and watched as Patrick O'Reilly dumped Zippa into the water.

"Why aren't you out playing?" He looked up as Devin joined him, spreading out her own towel and taking a seat. She shivered slightly in her dark blue one piece, her tight braid wet and beginning to stick to her skin. He shrugged.

"Wanted to sit and read." She rolled her eyes.

"So you are the one person that would bring a book to the beach." He shrugged, returning to Horatio Hornblower's tale of the high seas.

"If you don't like it, then go play." He replied, turning another page. Devin shrugged. She and Asher had gotten to be good friends over the last several weeks, and she'd developed a crush on the boy. Even so, Devin was too shy to admit how she felt towards Asher. Grania O'Reilly had moved on; becoming interested in a boy she played soccer with, much to Asher's relief.

"_Ma_ says that boys who read are rare." Asher nodded, not removing his gaze from his book.

"Then _Abba_ is really rare. He loves to read. _Ima_ says that he was the reason she started reading the classics. When they met, he was reading _Wuthering Heights_. So she read it." Devin giggled.

"I like_ yer_ parents. They're cute." Asher finally looked up, confused.

"How?" She shrugged.

"I _dinna_ know, they just are. They still kiss in public and hold hands. And they're touchy together, and they don't care who sees." She wrapped her arms around her knees. "I wish _me_ parents were like that. They hardly ever kiss in public, and they _ne'r_ hold hands. Sometimes, I don't think they even love each other." She met his gaze. "_Yer_ parents love each other. _Ye_ can see it." He returned to his book, barely paying attention. "I want that someday, what_ yer_ parents have."

"My_ Doda_, Tali, says that if you want something bad enough, then it's up to you to make it come true." She grinned, filing away his advice.

"I _'ope_ so. Thank _ye_, Asher." She leaned close, just as he turned to face her. Instead of her lips brushing against his cheek, like she intended, they caught his lips.


	16. Chapter 16

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

His green eyes widened in shock and he quickly pulled away. Devin bit her lip and blushed, glancing down at her feet. "I... I'm sorry, Asher, I... I _dinna_ mean..."

But the boy was up and rushing towards the water without a word. "Zippa! Liron! We have to go! Come on!" The other two stopped what they were doing and turned to him.

"But brother, that's not fair!" Zippa cried, even as Asher went to her and grabbed her hand.

"Come on! _Ima_ and _Abba_ expect us home now!" Liron shook his head.

"No they don't." But Asher grabbed his brother's hand and tugged him along with their sister. The dog watched as they came back, and as Asher quickly gathered his towel, he leapt up, following slowly, as though he also didn't want to leave the sun and calm of the beach.

"Come on, Jet!" Devin watched the siblings leave before climbing to her feet and grabbing her own things.

"Wait! Asher, wait!_ Yer Ma_ said_ ye_ weren't allowed to leave alone!" Asher turned back to her. He pulled his siblings closer, stepping in front of them, as though afraid Devin was gonna go after them this time.

"We'll be fine! We've walked home before! Besides, Jet won't let anything happen, will you?" Asher replied; the dog just cocked his head in response. He loved his humans, especially the three pups they'd had, and he would do anything to protect them, but this... even_ he_ knew that his master and mistress's oldest pup was hiding scared with his tail between his legs, all because someone else's pup had kissed him... and he was a_ dog_. A moment passed before he whimpered, and Asher shook his head.

"See, brother, even _Jet_ doesn't want to leave the beach!" Zippa said. "Please, can we stay?" Asher shook his head; he wasn't going to let Zipporah's pouting win him over. He didn't want to stay, and he wasn't going to leave his baby brother and sister here alone- he'd promised his parents he'd look out for them.

"No, Zippa! We're going home!" Devin glanced behind her; the other kids were following, probably all deciding that it was time they got home too.

* * *

_"Damn it!"_ Ziva looked up from coming back from getting the mail; Tim was pushing his laptop aside and pacing. The kids had gotten home and changed into dry clothes, and were sitting at the kitchen table with their father, looking through Penny's scrapbook on the Troubles. "This novel isn't getting anywhere." He stood, fixing a cup of coffee. Ziva sighed, setting the mail on the table and going to her husband. She leaned against his back, rubbing his shoulder, one arm going around his waist.

"Take a break, Tim. You've been at it all morning. It's not so important that you have to get it done tonight, is it?" He turned, taking her hands.

"My publisher needs at least a first rough by tomorrow, Zi. A chapter... _something_. And I can't think of anything."

"Another_ Tibbs_?" Liron asked; the kids all knew about their father's bestselling series, and they all enjoyed it, even taking turns reading it out loud to each other when they were bored. They loved their father's books, and didn't like to see him struggle with his writing. Tim shook his head.

"No, _definitely not_." Ziva reached up, caressing her husband's cheek.

"Then try writing something new. Try something different. You're a wonderful writer, Tim, you'll think of something." She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before heading upstairs. Zipporah and Liron followed, asking their mother various questions and telling her stories of their day at the beach. Asher stayed at the kitchen table, watching his father as he took a seat and returned to his laptop. Both he and Ziva had gotten what they needed to done for work, and so had the rest of the day free.

"Something different." He sighed. "Easy for you to say, Zi. You don't have to write it."

"_Abba_?" Tim looked up, meeting his son's gaze. The boy stayed quiet.

"What is it?" Tim pushed his laptop aside, grateful for the distraction. "Talk to me, sweetheart." A moment passed, before Asher glanced over his shoulder. Sensing something, his father got up, grabbed his coffee cup and nodded for the boy to follow. Once they were seated on the sofa, Tim turned to his son. "What did you want to ask?"

The boy swallowed, thinking. Tim waited patiently for his son to gather his thoughts. "I... ah... do... do you remember your... your first... kiss?" Tim's green eyes widened, surprised that he'd had to lean close to hear the boy's whispered words.

"My first kiss?" Asher nodded. "You always remember your first kiss." Asher waited before asking,

"Who... was it with_ Ima_?" Tim chuckled, shaking his head.

"No. It... it was with Emma Collins, here in Ireland in fact. I was eight, and Penny had brought your aunt and I up here to spend the summer. We'd gone up to Northern Ireland to visit friends in Belfast, and... and we were having lunch at a small diner, out on the sidewalk in the sunshine."

_The adults were talking, lost in a conversation about... something. Tim sighed, taking a bite of his ice cream. He jumped when he felt someone kick his foot under the table. "You want to go exploring?" Emma, the daughter of Penny's friend, grinned at him over her ice cream, her blue eyes sparking in excitement. He thought a moment._

_"Sure. Where?" But she kept quiet, and silently, the two slipped out of their chairs and made for the door of the diner, as though they were heading back inside, before slipping off to rush down the sidewalk, holding hands. They stopped when they got to a small vacant lot, and Tim's eyes widened. Emma tugged him forward. _

_"Come on! See? Rubbers!" She cried, pointing to the small rubber bullets laying scattered about the sidewalk. "The police people fire them into crowds to control them and then leave them." Tim knew all about the rubber bullets- he collected them every summer when they came up here to visit friends and family. The boy had quite a collection of rubber bullets in his backpack; he found them fascinating, and knew he wanted to work in law enforcement one day so he could use them. He looked around, confused; he had hundreds of rubbers, some burned around the edges, others flattened from being stepped on, some full casings, so he didn't understand why they were here, other than to collect more for their collections. _

_"So... why are we here? I have lots of bullets. I don't need more." Emma blushed, and leaned close. _

_"Cause I wanted to do this." She whispered, kissing him. His eyes widened in surprise before he pulled away, blushing. She ducked her head. "Sorry, I-" He didn't say anything, just took her hand to head back to the diner. "I want to get one more for my collection." She said, and he nodded, turning and starting back, figuring she'd catch up. But she never would. As soon as Tim was gone, she turned and knelt down, picking one up, unknowingly setting off a tripwire that caused the lot to explode. _

Tim sighed. "She hit a tripwire. The lot exploded, killed her. Her parents blamed me. Penny defended me, and... I never saw them again."

"What was she reaching for?" Asher asked softly. After a moment, Tim got up, leaving the living room. He came downstairs minutes later with a small wooden box, and set it on the table. Lifting the lid, he removed a newspaper clipping on the bombing, revealing hundreds of rubber bullets. Slowly, Asher reached out, picking one up. It was small, about the size of a quarter, and long, with frayed edges.

"It was nineteen-eighty-six, right in the middle of the Troubles." Tim sighed. "I swore I'd never get close to anyone ever again after Emma died, but... ten years later, we were in Israel and..." He met his son's gaze. "and I met _Ima_, and I fell in love with her, though I refused to admit it at the time, and..." He shrugged, becoming lost in thought. "and we had you." Asher watched his father, before setting the bullet back in the box. "Why did you ask about my first kiss?"

Slowly, his son whispered,

"Be... because... Devin... Devin kissed me... at the beach."


	17. Chapter 17

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Tim's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "_Really?"_ Asher nodded, and then shot to his feet, rushing from the room and up the stairs. His bedroom door slammed, and Tim shook his head. He looked up as Ziva entered the living room and took Asher's place. She'd come down the stairs, stopping when she heard Tim's story, and slowly hiding around the corner, listening as her husband spoke.

Tim swallowed. "Our son had his first kiss." She chuckled softly.

"I know, I heard." She slid a hand between his legs, gently caressing his thigh as she leaned into his shoulder. "Oh God, we're going to have to be dealing with raging teenage hormones, aren't we?" She asked, as Tim rubbed a hand over his face.

"I think raging _preteen_ hormones are more appropriate right now, Zi." He replied, brushing a kiss to her head. She 'hmmed' softly, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "He hasn't exactly hit that moody teenager phase yet. We should count ourselves lucky." She gently squeezed the inside of his thigh, thinking.

"Did you love her?" He pulled away to look at her, confused. "Emma Collins. Did you love her?"

Tim sighed, reaching for the newspaper article. "I'll never know."

_Eight-Year-Old Girl Dies in Belfast Bomb Explosion_

He unfolded the article; her smiling photo stared back at him, forever frozen in time. "I haven't thought about her in _years_. Haven't had the time, haven't wanted to, I guess..." He sighed. "I just don't understand it, though. Why her? I was there too, it should have been me. Why wasn't I killed too?"

"Maybe you weren't meant to be." She whispered, resting her chin on his bicep. "Maybe she died for a reason. To give you a chance to live." He met her gaze.

"To meet you and... create our son and... spend eight years apart..." She shrugged.

"You're always telling me that things happen for a reason, Tim. Maybe she died to give you a chance to open your heart again."

"With you." She chuckled softly, shrugging.

"Either way, I am grateful it was her and not you. I know it's horrible to say, but... if you hadn't lived, if you hadn't come to Israel... if you hadn't given me Asher... I would be buried next to my mother. And for that, I can only think to thank her." He nuzzled his nose gently against hers, sharing a soft kiss, realizing that Ziva was right.

* * *

The newspaper article was spread out on the kitchen table in front of him. Emma's smiling face stared back at him, forever a child. She hadn't gotten to grow up, hadn't gotten to go to college, get married, have children- it had all been cut short. She'd died in an explosion while Tim had walked away unharmed, doing all the things Emma should have been doing. After a moment, he turned to his laptop, and began to write.

Two hours later, Ziva came back into the kitchen, making her way towards him. She wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I see you are writing again." He nodded as her eyes skimmed the first paragraph. A slow smile spread across her face. "That's... wonderful, Tim. Absolutely wonderful." She pressed a kiss to his head, squeezing his shoulders. Neither noticed Asher slip into the kitchen.

"_Ima? Abba_?" The pair looked up, surprised to see their son watching them.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tim asked, closing the document he'd been working on and shutting his laptop. A moment passed, before the boy took a seat at the table, swallowing. "Asher, talk to us." He seemed to think a moment, before whispering,

"I... I'm sorry..."

"About what, sweetheart?" The boy bit his lip, before saying,

"About letting Devin kiss me." His parents shared a look, before laughing. Ziva's soft snorting caught her son by surprise, and she covered her mouth and nose, trying to pretend it didn't happen. Tim chuckled softly, getting up.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to apologize to us about being kissed by a girl." Asher glanced between his parents, confused.

"I... I don't?" Tim shook his head, chuckling.

"No. It was a kiss. It's not like she punched you and you punched her back. It was just a kiss. Why do you think you have to apologize?" He asked, setting a cup in front of his wife. She grinned up at her husband. Asher watched silently as his father leaned down, stealing a soft kiss from his wife before he moved to pull away, but Ziva gently grabbed his chin, pulling him back for another soft, sweet kiss. The boy blushed, ducking his head, embarrassed.

"Because I... I didn't kiss her back." He whispered, glancing at his parents, as Tim pulled away and grabbed a third mug, only filling it halfway with coffee and the rest with cream and sugar, that he set in front of his son. Tim sighed, holding onto the back of his wife's chair as he thought, trying to figure out how to respond.

"Asher, sweetheart..." Tim thought a moment, as Ziva reached up, taking his hand. "... you don't have to kiss her back if you don't want to. It's your choice. If you want to kiss her, you can. If you don't want to, you don't have to. Devin's a smart girl, she'll accept it either way." He returned to his seat, sipping his coffee.

"Asher," Ziva stopped; she reached out, picking up the apple her husband grabbed earlier in the day, but had forgotten to eat and rolled it between her small hands. The boy watched the red fruit roll back and forth between his mother's small, slender fingers, her short, home-manicured nails a soft, slightly sparkling green- like the color of her husband and children's eyes- in the sunshine coming through the kitchen window. She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "do you like Devin?"

He shrugged, never taking his gaze off the apple or the green of his mother's nails. "She's okay. She's nice. And.. funny and... fun to be around... for a_ girl_." He looked up, catching his parents' surprised glances.


	18. Chapter 18

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"_'For a girl_?'" Tim repeated the words slowly, making sure he'd heard correctly. Asher nodded. Ziva stopped rolling the apple briefly, meeting her husband's gaze, tongue poking out the corner of her lips in that habit she had when she was thinking. "Sweetheart, what do you define as... 'a girl' exactly? Like Zipporah or like _Ima_?" Asher shook his head.

"Zippa's a _sister_. And _Ima_'s... well, _Ima_." He replied. Ziva snorted softly, unsure of what to say. She met her husband's gaze, shrugging.

"Hey, he's right, Tim." Her husband rolled his eyes.

"That's not what I meant, Zi." He turned back to their son.

"Then what did you mean?" She asked, chuckling softly.

"I just meant that..." He sighed as Ziva's small laughing fit took hold.

"You are getting awfully upset over such a simple statement." She said, choking on her laughter.

"Are you done?" Eventually, she nodded. "Good, now-" When she started up again, he grabbed the apple, shoving it gently into his mouth. She squeaked in surprise, and turned to her husband, eyes wide. Asher ducked his head, a small smile on his face. "Ziva, baby, stuff it." Then, Tim turned back to his son. "Look, Asher, all I was meant, was do you look at Devin like you look at Zipporah?"

"Like a sister?" The boy asked. Tim nodded as Ziva removed the apple and bit into it. He turned to her, but all she did was sit back in her chair, crossing her arms as she ate in silence, letting her husband talk. He thought a moment, watching as Ziva held the apple out to her husband, and after a moment, Tim took a bite, handing it back to her. It always fascinated Asher that his father was so willing to share with his mother- like they'd been doing it their entire lives, even before he and his siblings came along. Ziva caught her son staring, and stop, apple raised to her lips. She lowered it and grinned.

"You don't have to look so surprised, my angel. _Abba_ doesn't have a single problem with my germs. If he did, we never would have created you." Then, she got up, slicing the rest of the apple and setting the slices aside in a small bowl on the table, before returning to her seat with the core in hand. Tim watched as his wife nibbled on the core, focused entirely on what she was doing and not the conversation- or what conversation was taking place.

"You eat the core, Zi? Really?" Tim asked, slightly disgusted. She nodded.

"Of course, it's the best part." Her husband rolled his eyes and turned back to his son. Asher giggled; _anything_ that got them off the subject of his kiss was a good thing. Besides, his mother was pretty entertaining when she wanted to be, and right now, her current entertainment with the apple was distracting his father, something Asher was grateful for.

"Asher. _Asher_." He looked up, meeting his father's eyes. "Back to the question."

"What was the question?" He asked, feigning innocence. His father narrowed his eyes.

"Do you look at Devin like you look at Zipporah- like a sister?" The boy swallowed, biting his lower lip. But before he could answer, an explosion shook the house slightly, and Tim sighed. The calm they'd had for a few hours was gone, replaced with the violence that was gripping the country and their small town. Asher, of course, took the opportunity to rush upstairs.

* * *

"_Abba_?" Tim looked up from his work. The boy watched him, fidgeting for several minutes before asking, "Can... can we talk?"

"Sure." Tim shut his laptop and pushed it aside, picking up the cup of coffee he had. After a moment, Asher took a seat beside him on the sofa. "What about?" He watched his son, picking up the little habits he used when he was nervous- biting his lower lip, refusing to look him in the eye, playing with his fingers or a pillow.

"A... About... the.. the..."

"The kiss?" Tim filled in, and Asher nodded, glancing quickly at his father. When his son didn't pick up the conversation, Tim set his cup down and sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Asher, what's really bothering you? Is it the fact that you were kissed? That it was by Devin? Or was it the fact that Devin's a girl and that she was the one that kissed you that's freaking you out?"

"I'm not freaked out." The boy whispered. Tim scoffed gently, shaking his head.

"No, of _course_ you're not. Why would you be? Other than the fact that you nearly had a _heart attack_ when you told me about it this afternoon." Tim shook his head, wrinkling his nose. "Nah, you're not freaked out _at all."_

Asher narrowed his eyes. He knew his father was just trying to get him to loosen up, but it still hurt none the less. "I did _not_ nearly have a heart attack." Tim sighed at his son's soft muttering, rubbing his hands together.

"Asher, I'm not making fun of you because I want to, I'm doing it because I've been there. I've had plenty of first kisses in my life, and each was _just_ as horrifying as the last. And I stressed about it, like you're doing. And then, I realized that the only way to overcome the horror was to joke about it. It took some of the stress away and helped me relax. It helped me think. And... it made me realize that each first kiss was just a practice test for the kisses to come. For the major ones; the ones that matter in life."

"Like... when you and_ Ima_ got married?" Tim nodded.

"Exactly. My first kiss with _Ima_ wasn't quite as nerve-wracking because we were teenagers and... we were disobeying our parents. There was a certain adrenaline rush that took over, an excitement at shaking up our parents perfect plans they had for us. But my first kiss with _Ima_ after you both came to America..._ that_ was nerve-wracking. I felt like I was eights-year-old again and being tugged into that vacant lot with Emma Collins." He sighed, thinking. "But it was worth all the nerves. And when I got to kiss_ Ima_ at our wedding, just made it even better." He searched his son's face for a moment. "Everyone gets scared at some point, sweetheart. Especially when it comes to love. For some reason, that word just freaks everyone out, and they act like lunatics. Which is what you were doing today."

Asher wrinkled his nose, staring at the coffee table. "I do not love her." He replied.

"No, but you like her, don't you?" Asher shook his head.

"No. I don't even like her."

"But she's a friend." Tim replied calmly. Asher wrinkled his nose again.

"No she's not." He replied, refusing to meet his father's gaze. Tim cocked his head to the side, studying his oldest. Then, he reached out and brushed the curls off his son's forehead.

"You sure about that?" Asher nodded. Tim 'hmmed', making a face. "You don't seem so sure."

"She's not a friend!" He snapped, turning to his father. Tim chuckled, gently ruffling his son's hair. Asher swatted his hand away, tears in his eyes. Clearly, he'd been making himself sick about the whole ordeal, much like he was doing about the violence that gripped his childhood. "_Abba_, don't, _it's not funny_!"

His father chuckled softly; he could see the truth in his son's eyes, because it'd been in his own- it was still in his eyes, every time he looked at his wife. "Asher, you know as well as I do that Devin is a friend. You count her as a friend, even if you won't admit it. And if_ that's all_ you want her to be, that's fine. It's your choice. Do what makes you feel comfortable. If you think she's _more_ than a friend, and you want her to be more than a friend, that's fine, too. Again, it's _your choice_. But you _have_ to make a decision, and the first way to make a decision, is to _accept_ that there's a decision to be made. Otherwise, it makes for an uncomfortable situation for all involved."

"But-" Tim waited.

_"But."_ He prompted gently.

"But I didn't _want_ her to kiss me. It was an_ accident_!" The boy sniffled, meeting his father's eyes.

"I understand. Believe me, I do. Now the question is, what do _you_ want to do about it? Do you want to tell Devin that you just want to be friends and that you don't think of her that way? Or do you want to tell her that you think of her that way too, and want to try being more than friends? Or do you just want to forget it never happened?" The boy thought a moment.

"Forget it never happened?" Tim shrugged.

"You can, but once you've been kissed, it's hard to forget, because you always want more." A moment passed before Asher whispered,

"Can I kill her then?_ What_?" Asher had only ever seen his father's glare directed at his mother when she said something stupid like that. "If I kill her then I don't have to think about it!"

"That's not funny, Asher Malachi." Tim replied, serious. "Not with everything going on." He picked up his cup and took a sip. "You're getting more of your mother's personality every day. And she wonders why I took away most of her knives and locked them in the safe." Tim set his cup down, thinking. "Let me ask you something." The boy waited, staring at his feet. "... when you think of Devin, what do you think of? Do you think of her like a sister? Or a friend? Or something more?" His son stayed silent, and Tim nodded, getting to his feet. "There's your dilemma."

The boy turned to him. "What,_ Abba_?" Tim picked up his laptop, ruffling his son's hair. Then, he pressed a kiss to his head and picked up his cup, moving past the boy.

"Once you figure out what Devin is to you, _then_ you can figure out what you want to do about your friendship with her."


	19. Chapter 19

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Guest for reviewing 9 and 15; Reader for reviewing 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 and 18.**

"Hey, Sarah, how're you doing?" The younger woman groaned, shaking her head. "That bad?"

"I understand why some women love being pregnant, but I cannot _wait_ for her to come out of me, Ziva. How did you _stand_ being pregnant three times?" Her sister-in-law chuckled and sat back, wrapping her hands around her mug of tea.

"Honestly, Asher was the surprise. Even when I was in labor with him, I hadn't fully accepted that I was going to have a baby. The other two were... I was pretty much feeling the way you feel." Sarah chuckled. "So, how far are you now?"

"Twenty-nine weeks. Thirty at the beginning of August." Ziva nodded as Sarah slowly lifted her shirt, revealing her round belly. She gently brushed a hand over the distended skin, sighing.

"You are about the same size I was with Asher at that point. Have you and Damon decided on a name yet?" Sarah nodded. "Good. My_ Ima_ told me when I was pregnant with Asher that..." She licked her lips, struggling to keep from crying as she thought of her mother. "that a name is the most important thing you can give your child, because it will be the one thing he will carry with him for the rest of his life." She took a deep breath. "And I have lived by that... that's why my children's names are so important, not because they're Jewish, but because it is the only thing they will have with them for the rest of their lives, long after Tim and I are gone."

Sarah gave her a watery smile. "I wish could remember meeting your mother." Ziva nodded, returning the smile.

"Me too." Silence settled between the two, before Sarah asked,

"Is everything okay, Ziva?" The older woman nodded, giving her a shaky smile.

"Everything's fine, Sarah. Why?"

"Ziva, I'm not stupid. I know that Timmy's trying to protect me, because he's_ always_ protected me, but I watch the news, I read the newspaper... it's _all over everything_. Every report is on the violence in the Republic. I.. I need to know that my brother is okay. That you're all okay." Ziva gave her small smile, taking a deep breath.

"We're okay, Sarah."

"You aren't just saying that?" She shook her head.

"No. We are all okay. We will all be okay. I promise."

* * *

She set the water to boil and leaned against the counter, thinking over her conversation with Sarah. She hadn't thought of Rivka in years- it was always too painful to dwell on her mother, because she always recalled the pain of her death before the joy of her life. But she knew it had been a good thing to bring up what her mother had told her, if only for Sarah's sake.

Sighing, she ghosted a hand over her abdomen, watching the steam slowly begin to waft into the air from the kettle.

_"Ziva. Zivaleh, look at me."_

_She looked up, turning from the mirror as her mother slipped into the room and gently shut the door behind her. Rivka watched her daughter; the sweatpants she wore hung low on her hips, thanks to her belly, and she only wore a bra; it was the only thing she was comfortable in at the moment. Slowly, Rivka's dark eyes moved over her daughter's figure. She'd taken Ziva to the midwife the day before, and the woman had gently confirmed that Ziva was thirty-eight weeks, and that the baby was healthy and getting ready to be born. A moment passed, before Ziva reached for her mother's hand, whimpering. "Ima-"_

_"Remember what the midwife said, it is just false labor. Your body is practicing for the birth, that is all." Rivka replied, helping her daughter sit on the bed as she joined her. Gently, she rubbed her daughter's back, watching as Ziva looked down. _

_"I cannot see my feet. All I see is... this." She said, gesturing to the round, huge mound before her. "Just... just belly."_

_"I know." Rivka whispered, rubbing her daughter's back in slow, circular motions. Ziva took a deep breath. _

_"I..."_

_"What is it?" Her daughter looked at her, biting her lip. _

_"I was getting dressed this morning and... there was this... it was... sort of... tan..." Rivka chuckled softly. _

_"You have lost your mucus plug, Zivaleh, it is nothing to worry about. It happens a lot of time to women weeks before labor." The girl nodded, and Rivka was able to take the silence to bring up what she'd originally planned to. "Zivaleh, have you picked out a name for your son, yet?" _

_The girl nodded. "Ken, Ima. A.. a couple weeks after you and Ari brought me here. Why?"_

_"Is it a good, strong name, Ziva?" Rivka asked, taking her daughter's hands. "A strong, confident name?"_

_"I think so, Ima. Why?" Her mother gently squeezed her daughter's hands. _

_"Because a name is the most important thing you can give your child. No matter what happens to him, his name will always be with him, even when you are not. It will get him through the struggles he will face in life, and if it is a strong name, then he will be able to face the struggles in his life with confidence. Zivaleh, a strong name is the one thing he will carry with him for the rest of his life, and it is the most important. Do you understand?" Her daughter nodded._

Ziva jumped as the kettle began to whistle and quickly removed it from the heat. Once she'd fixed her tea, she took a seat at the table, thinking. "Hey baby." She felt Tim's hands slide over her back as he passed by her; she hadn't even heard him come down the stairs. "I have to go into Dublin today, and Asher asked if he could come along. I said it was okay." She turned to him.

"No, Tim. I... I don't want any of the kids going into Dublin. I don't want you going in." He stopped, turning to her.

"Ziva, I _have_ to go in and drop a couple things off at the office. It's not going to be that much. We'll be back before dark, I promise." She stopped, thinking.

"Fine. But Asher isn't going." He scoffed.

"I just told him he_ could_!"

"And I am telling you he _can't_!"

"Ziva, we can't protect them forever, if that's what _yer're_ thinking, then we may as well just place them all in plastic bubbles for the rest o' their lives!" She stood, going to him.

"I'm not saying you can't go, I'm saying_ Asher_ can't go, Tim! _He's a child_!"

"And he's experienced more violence in his short life than half the kids in Ireland _combined_!" Tim snapped, grabbing Ziva's shoulders. "We have to stop hiding them, Ziva, otherwise they'll _never_ be able to function in the world. They'll be like_ Tony_, acting like kids when they're in their forties. Zi, I _know_ you want to protect them-"

"I just... what if something happens? What if a bomb goes off or there's a shooting or a riot and... and you and Asher are caught in the crossfire?" He pulled her closer, squeezing her waist gently.

"We'll be okay, Zi. I won't let anything happen to Asher, I promise."


	20. Chapter 20

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The heat of July soon slid into the cooling warmth of August, and the kids all enjoyed- or tried to enjoy- the last few weeks of summer before they headed back to school. All were anxious to return to the normalcy of the classroom and get away from the violence that swirled around them. Midway through the first week in August, Tim and Ziva had allowed the kids to go out with their friends, as long as they stuck close together and were careful. Jethro went with them, the ever present guard dog of his master and mistress's precious pups.

As they all walked home from the library that afternoon, Devin turned to Asher. She thought a moment before, "Why have _ye_ been avoiding me, Asher?" He met her gaze.

"I... I haven't been avoiding you." She raised an eyebrow.

"_Aye, ye_ have. Whenever I've asked if ye wanted _t' go t'_ the beach with the rest of us, _ye_ refuse." When they got back to the McGee's house, she grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Did I do something wrong? If _'tis_ about that kiss, I... I _dinna_ mean to... I meant to kiss _yer_ cheek and_ ye_ turned..." But before Asher could reply, Zipporah poked her head out the door.

"Brother, lunch is ready. Do you want to stay, Devin?" She glanced at Asher, before turning back to Zipporah and smiling.

"I would love to." Asher swallowed before following reluctantly behind.

* * *

Asher looked up from his book; he lay on the grass in the backyard, reading. He'd promised his mother he'd come inside if anything suspicious happened, but so far, the only thing suspicious going on was the murder Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson were solving. As he turned another page in his book, the back door closed, but he didn't look up.

"Won't_ ye_ talk to me, Asher, please?" Devin lay down beside him, resting her head on her folded arms. She watched the boy; he either was too absorbed in his book to hear her or was ignoring her. "How many times can I apologize? I said I'm sorry-"

"Rule Number Six- never apologize. It's a sign of weakness." Devin furrowed a brow.

"What?" He turned another page in his book.

"_Ima_ and _Abba_ worked for Mr. Gibbs at NCIS when we lived in the States. Number Six is one of Mr. Gibbs's rules." Devin pursed her lips, confused.

"Wh... what's NCIS?" That caught the boy's attention. He turned to her.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service?" She shook her head. "_Abba_ says there are offices all over the world."

"Not in Ireland." She replied. He sighed.

"They are Navy cops. They solve crimes that deal with the Navy or people in the Navy." He turned back to his book. "I'm going to be a Special Agent and work for Mr. Gibbs some day."

"Who is Mr. Gibbs?"

"He was_ Ima_ and _Abba_'s boss. But they resigned and we never see him anymore."

"Why did they resign?" Asher thought a moment.

"Because people were trying to blame them for things they didn't do, so they resigned to take responsibility for the things they did do. And then we moved here, and..." He shrugged.

"So... they aren't cops anymore?"

"Federal agents, and no. I think _Ima_ and_ Abba_ are happier."

"Why?" She asked, confused. He turned to her.

"Because people aren't trying to kill them every day." Slowly, Devin nodded, understanding. They lay in silence for several minutes, Asher returning to his book, with Devin watching him. Ever since that kiss at the beach, her crush had grown, as had, unbeknownst to Asher, his _own_ crush on her. A moment passed before Asher looked up from his book. "Why did you kiss me at the beach?" She thought a moment.

"I... I meant to... to kiss _yer_ cheek. And _ye_ turned to look at me, and..." Devin shrugged. "Doesn't matter. _Ye_ don't like me, even though I..." She looked down at her nails, thinking. "Even though I..." Slowly, she looked up at him. "I like _ye_."

Asher studied her for a moment, his father's words bouncing in his head. _"Once you figure out what Devin is to you, then you can figure out what you want to do about your friendship with her."_

He'd avoided her for days, denied that he had feelings for her, even decided that killing her would take care of the problem. But Tim was right. He had to figure out what to do, how to deal with this... whatever it was that they were. It was his choice, his father had told him. He had to make a decision. Had it been this nerve-wracking when his parents had run off that night and created him? Or when his father had been forced to leave them, even though at the time, neither knew Asher even existed?

The boy swallowed. _Abba_ was strong, he didn't run away from his problems. Even if he'd known about Asher, he wouldn't have run away, and he accepted them as soon as they showed up in the bullpen that day. And when he and_ Ima_ had resigned, they hadn't run, they'd walked right into Vance's office and handed over their badges with their heads held high and their consciences clear,_ knowing_ they were doing the right thing. When they moved to Ireland, they'd talked it over, and, knowing they were leaving everyone they loved behind, they moved anyway, needing a new start; they moved knowing that while they couldn't_ fully_ escape the violence, they had a better chance of allowing their kids to live normal lives without worrying that their parents might never come home.

He'd seen the nights when _Ima_ had broken down, how Abba had been there to pick her up and hold her and promise that things would be okay. When_ Ima_ wasn't strong or couldn't be,_ Abba_ was. And when _Abba_ wasn't,_ Ima_ was. He loved his parents, and studied their example closely. He wanted to be like _Abba_ someday- he wanted to be strong, and caring and gentle, and protect the people he loved, just like his father.

He took a deep breath, studying her. Then, gathering his courage, he leaned over and closed the gap between them, his book forgotten as he kissed her, his father's words ringing in his head.

_"Once you've been kissed, you always want more."_


	21. Chapter 21

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"What are you looking at, Tim?" He turned from the kitchen window as Ziva joined him.

"I think Asher decided to do something about his problem with Devin." She leaned close, looking through the window, eyes wide, a smile tugging at her lips.

"What did you tell him?" He shrugged.

"Just to make a choice." She nodded, taking his hands.

"Well, since Asher is making one, why don't you make one also? I could use a shower, and I would like some company." She pulled his hands to rest on her waist. He chuckled, pulling her closer and whispering softly in her ear,

"I would love to, baby."

* * *

Her mouth was soft, _really_ soft; and she tasted like the iced tea _Ima_ had made the day before. A moment passed, before she reached down and took his hand, slowly lacing their fingers. He slowly pulled away, searching her eyes, but they were closed tight, and after a moment, he gathered his book and stood to flee back to the house, but he only succeeded in tumbling back to the grass. Devin opened her eyes and she looked at him. "S... sorry, Devin I... I didn't mean to..." But this time she closed the gap between them, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away. A blush crept over her cheeks, and she glanced down at the grass.

"So... so where do... what do we..." He shrugged, opening his book and returning to his stomach on the grass. She watched, sitting up. "So... so you kiss me and then read?" Asher looked up at her.

"Do you want read it to?" She huffed softly, and then leaned close.

"What are you reading?" He showed her the cover- _The Complete Sherlock Holmes Collection_. "What story are you on?"

He glanced at the top of the page, before turning towards her. "_'A Scandal in Bohemia_.'"

"I like _Hound of the Baskervilles_ better, but-"

"Anything by Doyle is good." After a moment, she lay down beside him; he shifted the book over so she could see.

"Can we start at the beginning?"

He sighed. "Sure." He shifted back to the first chapter of the story. They lay together, the sun warm on their backs, only the rustling of the wind and the turning of pages to break their concentration. Devin lay her head on Asher's shoulder; he glanced at her, a little nervous, especially when he realized she was engrossed in the story. Slowly, he pulled away, causing her to collapse back on the grass. "Sorry." She blushed, and looked away.

Asher shrugged and rested his arms on the book, chin on his arms. He winced hearing the faint boom of explosions and gunfire in the distance, and remembered the newspaper clippings in his father's scrapbook and the box of rubber bullets he'd brought down. Some of the article headlines had scared him-_ Ulster's Bloody Sunday, Stormont PM Faulkner 'helped cover up truth of bar bombing', Twenty-one hurt in Irish street battles_\- and others were just heartbreaking, and a few even funny.

"_'Please don't give children Toy Guns for Christmas.'_"

"What?" He looked up at Devin, who sat watching him, confused.

"_Abba_ has a scrapbook with a lot of articles about the... the Troubles." Her eyes widened.

"_Ye_ know about the Troubles?" He shrugged.

"A little. Not much. Just that they were in Northern Ireland, and that a lot of people died." She swallowed.

"It was a bad time." Asher lay his head on his arms.

"How do you know?" A moment passed in silence, before Devin spoke. When she did, her voice was shaky.

"_Me... me Ma's_ oldest brother was... was one of the hunger strikers that died in... in nineteen-eighty-one."

"Hunger striker?" Devin stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Ye don't know what a hunger strike is?" He shook his head.

"I know what it is, I just... I've never heard..." She nodded, understanding. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she stared at the ground.

"I never met _me_ Uncle Bobby. _'e_ led the hunger strike in the HM Prison Maze." She chuckled softly. "_'e_ was elected_ t'_ the British Parliament as an Anti-H Block candidate but _'e ne'er _got to take his seat in the commons. He died a month after winning, of self-inflicted starvation. Margaret Thatcher called him a criminal, and that he_ chose_ to take his life. I've met _me_ cousin Gerard, but I _ne'er_ got to meet him. There's a mural in Belfast with him on it." Asher shook his head.

"I've never seen it."

"_Ye've nev'r_ been up _t'_ Northern Ireland?"

"No."

"_Ye_ should go up some time. _'tis_ beautiful. There are murals all around Northern Ireland remembering the Troubles."

"Do... do you think they'll paint murals to remember this too?" She shrugged.

"If it's as bad as the Troubles in Northern Ireland, maybe. Why?" He shook his head. They sat in silence, before Asher closed his book and got up. He headed back towards the house, preferring to be inside, when he felt something latch onto him. Quickly, his head snapped down, to see Devin's hand slip into his. She gave him a small nervous smile, that he slowly returned.

Liron looked up as his brother entered the kitchen. His green eyes instantly snapped towards Asher and Devin's hands, and the older boy quickly pulled away from the girl, setting his book on the counter. Something sparked in the younger boy's green eyes, and Asher watched carefully, gaze narrowed. As Liron opened his mouth, Asher cut him off.

"Don't!" Liron's eyes widened in surprise.

"I haven't said anything!"

"But you're going to, I know it!" Liron crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother. Devin watched the siblings argue, a blush creeping into her cheeks. As Liron once again opened his mouth, Asher lost his patience. _"Sheket b'vakashah!"_

"Um... what... what does that mean?" Devin asked, glancing at the siblings. Liron sighed.

"It is Hebrew for-"

"_Shut up_." Asher snapped, glaring at his brother.

"Who is supposed to shut up?" All three turned as Zipporah came down the stairs and into the kitchen. She looked from each person to the next, confused.

"Asher has a girlfriend." Liron replied, grinning.

"I _don't_ have a girlfriend!" He snapped, Gibbs-ing his younger brother. Liron glared at him and got up, going into the living room.

"Really? Who?" Liron stopped, nodding towards Devin, who glanced at her feet, embarrassed to be the center of the conversation. Zipporah's eyes widened in surprise.

"She's_ not my girlfriend_!" Asher snapped, as his sister clapped her hands in excitement.

"Who has a girlfriend?" All four turned to see Ziva come down the stairs, Tim following behind, buttoning his shirt. She had a towel over her shoulders, and was drying her damp curls. Asher glanced at his parents, shaking in embarrassment.

"_I don't have a girlfriend_." He muttered, storming past his parents and up the stairs to his room. Ziva turned back to the other kids, confused.

"What did I say?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Asher refused to say a word about Devin. He hadn't told anyone that he'd kissed her, or that she'd kissed him back or that they'd held hands. If anything, he was embarrassed, especially since Zipporah and Liron had found out. But neither he nor anyone else in the family had much time to think about anything other than what they saw on the news. More murders, kidnappings, bombings. Explosions kept them up at night, and it was an almost nightly occurrence that the kids would end up in bed with their parents, listening to stories or lullabies as they tried to ignore the bursts of gunfire or blast of bombs in the distance. Most days, none of them left the house, more for fear of being caught in the crossfire of a riot than having anywhere to actually go. Tim and Ziva had made sure to stock up on meats and vegetables, preserves and bread, with the threat of the stores being rigged to explode. The kids often helped their parents bake or cook, and it wasn't uncommon for them to huddle in the upstairs hallway, playing Scrabble after dinner. They still kept in contact with Sarah and Tali, updating them only on the mundane happenings and refusing to talk about what was going on around them.

"Zivaleh, talk to me please, you're worrying me." Ziva twisted a lid onto a jar of apple butter and set it back on the counter before quickly rinsing her hands in the sink and drying them with a towel.

"I am fine, Tali, I've told you repeatedly." She went to the kitchen table and leaned over the back of the chair. "How is Sarah?" Tali sighed, rolling her eyes; she knew her sister was trying to keep them off the subject of the chaos in the Republic for as long as she could, and hating herself, the younger woman played along, if only to make her sister happy.

"She's doing good. Thirty-four weeks." She chuckled. "She reminds me so much of you, Zivaleh. Acts the same way, thinks the same way, cannot wait for her little girl to arrive. Exactly how you acted when you were pregnant with Asher. She called me one afternoon in a panic."

"What about?"

"She was horrified to discover that her belly button had popped." Ziva chuckled.

"You're kidding."

"No. I told her it happens during the second trimester and that it happens with all pregnant women, no matter the pregnancy, and that she should have noticed. She said she hadn't." Her sister laughed softly. "She's becoming all soft curves and round skin and she's_ not_ happy at all." Tali stopped, licking her lips. "She keeps asking if you and Tim have decided when to come down." Ziva's face fell, and she took a seat at the table. "She wants you there for the birth, Ziva, desperately. She says she won't stop asking until you tell her when you're coming, and she's even threatened not to give birth until you and Tim are here."

Ziva shook her head, a small smile flitting across her face. "She can't do that. She's going to give birth whether she wants to or not. I said the same thing, remember, when I was in labor with Asher? I threatened not to let the baby out until his father was with us."

"And Ari told you it was dangerous for you and the baby. You had no choice."

"And neither does Sarah." Ziva said. Tali nodded sighing.

"Are you going to be coming down? Dr. Mallard is expecting everyone over at his place for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner."

"How is Ducky, Tali? And Jimmy? And... and Director Vance? And Abby and Tony and..." She stopped, unable to bring herself to say her former boss's name. Tali saw the confliction on her sister's face and understood.

"They're okay, Ziva. They're all worried about the violence in Ireland, but-"

"They don't know, do they?" She shook her head.

"No. I haven't told them. Neither Sarah or I have. And neither has Damon or Michael. We've kept our word, Zivaleh, I promise you we have. They have a new girl on the team. She's at your desk. Ellie Bishop. She's from NSA. And they're bringing in another agent, one from the FBI- one of Agent Fornell's former charges. An Agent... Callister, I believe. I don't remember his first name, but, I think that's correct as his last. And... I've been checking on Gibbs, like you asked. Not all the time, just occasionally stop by the bullpen to tell him hello. He's asking about you and Tim. He misses you both. Said he hasn't talked to either of you since you called after..." She sighed. "... after moving to Ireland."

Ziva sighed, and laid her head on the table. "It's complicated, Tali, I have told you."

"I know. I'm just telling you what I see. Abby's real quiet, she doesn't blast her heavy metal anymore- save's everyone's eardrums, but- all she plays are dirges and ballads and she's wearing business jackets and skirts and high heels. She got rid of all of her tattoos and her... coffin..." Ziva chuckled softly. "And she doesn't follow the Goth culture anymore. It's actually really scary."

"Sounds like it. And Tony?"

"He's hurt, deeply, Zivaleh. Misses you and Tim like crazy. Says the team isn't the same without you both. He doesn't pull pranks anymore, he just sits and does his work. Your leaving affected everyone , Zivaleh, whether you realize it or not." A moment passed, before Tali furrowed a brow. "Where are the kids?"

"At sch-" She stopped when the front door opened, and Asher and his siblings walked in, with a couple of other kids- Chloe and Liam Quinn; Liam was on the curling team with Asher, and Chloe did Irish dance with Liron and Zipporah- all carrying their backpacks and looking like they'd been to Hell and back.

"Ziva? Ziva, what's wrong?" But she was on her feet and rushing to her children, kneeling in front of them. She took Asher's face in her hands.

"What are you doing home? You're supposed to be at school?" She hissed, worry filling every fiber. Asher swallowed, tears coming to his eyes, but he stayed quiet. Tim was upstairs, lying down; he'd spent most of the day- after finishing what he needed to for work- working on his novel, before coming into the kitchen and grabbing the Excedrin. She'd watched as he forced the pills down before getting a dishtowel wet with warm water and shoving him towards the stairs, telling him to lie down and cover his eyes. And then she'd called Tali and had spent the last two hours catching up with her baby sister.

The last thing she wanted to do was wake her husband and cause the migraine to get worse. Whatever it was, she could handle it. But all Asher did was wrap his arms around his mother's neck and bury his face in her shoulder. She laid her hands on her son's back, turning to her two youngest and the other children. "What happened? _Liron? Zipporah?_ _What happened_?"

Liron swallowed, tears in his eyes. "They sent us all home."

"Why? What could be _so important_ that they'd send you home from your _third week of_-"

"They bombed the school, _Ima_." Liron whispered. "Someone bombed the school."


	23. Chapter 23

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The report was on the evening news; someone had placed two car bombs in front of Belgrove, and when someone noticed the suspicious-looking vehicles, the teachers had gotten the kids out and instructed them all to walk home in groups; the police had been called, but by the time they got there, it was too late. The cars had exploded, destroying the buildings and killing several of the faculty and the few remaining students who'd yet had a chance to get out.

Ziva and Tim had walked Chloe and Liam home- they only lived a couple houses away- and when they returned, they'd found the kids huddled in their bedroom under the blankets. Instead of asking what had happened, all they'd done was pushed them gently towards their rooms and told them to write about it; sending the clear message that they could talk when they were ready.

Dinner had been a silent affair, and afterwards, the kids had all returned to their rooms, and hadn't been seen since. Now, Ziva paced the living room, a fire crackling in the fireplace in the corner, heating the chilled room. _"Who would bomb a school? What kind of cold, heartless, evil..."_

"Ziva-"

_"... would bomb a school filled with innocent children?"_ Tim sighed, rubbing his temples. His migraine had gone away earlier, but with the discovery of what had happened at Belgrove and what could have been their children's fate, it was coming back full force. And his wife's ranting wasn't making it any better.

_"Ziva!"_ She stopped, turning to him. He took a seat on the sofa. "Stop. Just stop. There is no use stewing about it when we couldn't do anything to prevent it in the first place."

"_How can you sit there and be so calm, Timothy! Our children could have been killed in that bombing!"_ He was on his feet in seconds, with his hands on her shoulders, shaking her.

_"But they weren't Ziva! Our children are safe! They're fine!" _

_"And it's another woman who has to plan her baby's funeral. How is that right, Tim? Tell me, how is it fair?" _

_"It's not, okay, it's not fair! But there's nothing we can do about it!_ We can only worry about _our children_, about _our family_. They are what's important right now. Asher and Liron and Zipporah-_ they_ are what we need to be focusing on. Okay?" She nodded, tears in her eyes.

_"I just... I saw them come into the house today and... and they were shaking and covered in soot and dirt and... and I didn't recognize them, any of them... and for a minute I thought I had lost my babies, Tim. I thought I'd lost my babies... and I wasn't... I couldn't... I... I..."_ She broke down, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tim held her close, pressing a firm kiss to her head. He rocked her gently back and forth, whispering softly to her.

Asher and his siblings sat on the stairs, listening to the argument, tears running down their own cheeks as their mother broke down.

* * *

As it slid further into fall, moving into late-September, life in Clontarf seemed to come to a standstill. People rarely left their homes, children, if they did go out, went out in groups and returned quickly if they saw something suspicious or returned before even three o'clock, for fear of being caught in the crossfire of a fight. Victims of every age, religion and gender were soon listed as the latest casualties of whatever riot, bombing, fight or murder had taken place the day before.

Ziva talked regularly with Tali and Sarah, as did Tim, and Devin spent more and more time with Asher and his siblings; often times, a group of the kids would go down to the beach and play in the water, always returning before two or three in the afternoon. It was after one of these afternoons that Devin had stayed for lunch, and she and the siblings had played Scrabble upstairs in the hallway, with Jethro blocking the landing, sound asleep as Tim and Ziva worked downstairs.

Neither Asher nor Devin knew what to call their relationship; they weren't dating, not that their parents wouldn't let them, but both were far too young to date and going out in the conditions their town and the country was in was a death wish waiting to happen. Personally, both Tim and Ziva were glad Devin and Asher were spending so much time together- the girl got their quiet, bookworm son to come out of his shell a little more, and he often calmed down her bubbly personality- a personality only certain people saw. The two talked and shared their favorite novels, played games, held hands, and kissed.

They spent a lot of time kissing.

The pair sat on the landing, steaming cups of tea in their hands, talking about their favorite books. Liron and Zipporah had disappeared somewhere with Jethro in tow, and Tim and Ziva were downstairs, talking quietly together at the kitchen table. Asher had seen his parents in enough stress to know to leave them alone when they wanted to talk. But this was different. He was worried, really worried. And so he kept his attention trained on the kitchen, listening for raised voices or the scraping of chairs across the floor- any sign that would tell him what his parents were going through. But all he heard was muffled voices as they talked quietly together. "Asher? Asher!" He turned, finding Devin staring at him. "What's wrong?" He shook his head.

"Nothing. Just..." He turned his attention back towards the kitchen, and she nodded.

"_Me_ parents are like that too. They don't _wanna_ worry me, so they don't say anything." He nodded, thinking of something else to talk about that didn't have to do with the violence they lived in.

"My _Doda_, Sarah, is going to have her baby soon. In October, around Halloween. She's_ Abba's_ little sister." Devin squealed softly.

"Oh, a baby! Does she know what she's having?" He nodded.

"A girl. She doesn't understand why_ Ima_ went through it three times. She thinks_ Ima's_ nuts." He took a sip of his tea. "_Abba_ jokes that she's lucky. It didn't take her three tries to get a girl. Just that it's probably going to take her three tries to get a boy." Devin giggled, looking down at her cup. A moment passed in silence, before she close, kissing him softly. When she pulled away, she whispered,

"Can we ask_ yer_ parents if we can go outside? I _wanna_ lay in the grass and look at the clouds." He nodded, hearing laughter come from his brother's room, and he knew they were probably watching the pair. Then he climbed to his feet and took her hand.

"Come on." When they came downstairs, Tim and Ziva were sitting close together, foreheads touching, talking softly. "_Abba? Ima_?" The pair pulled away, turning to their son. "Can... can Devin and I... go outside? We'll be in the backyard and we'll come in if anything happens or looks funny. Please?"

"Why?" Tim asked, as Ziva gently smacked his cheek in that signature way of hers.

"I want to lay in the grass and look at the clouds. _Ma_ doesn't let me do it anymore." Devin said. "Please, Mr. and Mrs. McGee, I promise we'll be good." The couple shared a glance before Ziva nodded, picking up her cup.

"All right, but if anything happens-"

"Come straight in." Asher finished. As the backdoor closed behind them, Ziva turned to her husband.

"Should we have let them-"

"I think they just wanted to get away from Zipporah and Liron. They've been making fun of Asher since they found out about his kiss." Tim replied, kissing his own wife. "He's embarrassed, they both are. I really don't see why they should be." He grinned, nuzzling his nose against hers. Ziva giggled, returning the soft kiss.


	24. Chapter 24

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

They lay in the grass side by side, staring up at the clouds for two hours. "When I was little, I used _t'_ look up at the clouds and imagine a place I'd _nev'r_ been before. Like India or Mexico." Asher stayed silent, watching the clouds drift by. After a moment, Devin reached down and slowly laced their fingers together. The handholding was getting easier, though not any less embarrassing for either one. And the kissing was just... humiliating all the way around. But they liked to kiss, and kissed in private, so that temporarily outweighed the humiliation.

"I wish on shooting stars, like _Abba_ taught me too after _Ima_ and I came to America. I wished on six stars once and it came true."

"What did you wish for?" He met her gaze.

"For _Abba_ to find us. It was before we came to Ireland." He replied, ending the inquiry. She nodded, turning back to the clouds. They lay in silence for several minutes, before Devin asked,

"Do_ ye_ ever think about the future? What _ye_ want to do with _yer_ life?" He thought a moment, squeezing her hand.

"I want to become an NCIS Agent, like _Abba_ and_ Ima_ were. I want to solve crimes and help put bad people away- like the ones here." She nodded.

"I _wanna_ dance, professionally. Maybe in that _Riverdance_ show, and tour the world, and see everything I've_ nev'r_ seen before. And maybe get married and have a family." Asher nodded; he'd never thought of marriage, or kids, but then again, he was a kid himself. It unnerved him that Devin was already thinking of marriage and kids. "But not while I'm dancing. After I retire. Then I'll get married and have a family." She glanced at Asher, and giggled, surprised at the horror on his face. "What? _Ye canna_ imagine a family of_ yer_ own?"

He shook his head. "No." She blushed.

"Asher-" But he cut off her sentence with a soft kiss. When he pulled away, she bit her lip, thinking. A moment passed, before she asked, "Have ye ever been French kissed?" He furrowed a brow.

"What is a... French kiss?" Even though he'd spent the better part of his childhood in America with his father, some terms or saying or words still confused him.

"It... _'tis_ a kiss that... where one person kisses the other person with their tongue."

"Like Jethro does?" She shook her head.

"No. It... one person kisses the other person with their tongue in the person's mouth. I... I saw it in a movie and... and I wanted _t'_ try it. If_ 'tis_ okay with _ye_." Asher glanced back towards the house. Didn't this constitute as strange and suspicious?

"Um... m... maybe we'd better... go in..." He climbed to his feet, pulling away from her and heading for the door. Tim and Ziva looked as Asher rushed up into the house and up the stairs, Devin slipped inside and silently shut the door.

"Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. McGee." She muttered, following Asher up the stairs, leaving his parents to share confused looks.

* * *

"Asher?" She knocked softly, but he didn't reply. "I'm sorry. I... I _dinna_ mean to... to..." She sighed. "I just_ wanna_ try it, but _ye_ don't have to. I understand. I... I _dinna mean_..." But the door opened and he stared at her, crossing his arms. He sniffled.

"I'm... not good with... other people." He whispered, turning and going to his desk and taking a seat. She stepped into his room, leaving the door open; both felt safer if the door was open, in case one of them needed to bolt, like Asher had been doing from the beginning of their... whatever this was.

"I'm _no'_ either." She replied, twisting her hands. Asher didn't reply, he instead studied the desk Gibbs had made for him after he and his mother had first arrived in his father's life. "_Me_ parents don't like me being around boys, but... they like _ye,_ and..._ yer_ parents are good friends with _Ma_ and_ Da_... as... as long as we... don't call it a... a relationship or... or ever start_ t'... t'_ date or seriously date,_ 'tis_ fine."

He met her gaze and got up, taking a seat on the floor, against the side of his bed. He sighed. "I'm not good with... girls. Except Zippa and_ Ima_-"

"And me." She said, taking a seat beside him. He met her gaze. "We _dinna_ have _t'_ kiss, I was just saying, I would like_ t'_ try_ t'... t'_ French kiss _someday_." He narrowed his eyes.

"Someday?" She nodded. Slowly, he leaned his head back against the bed cover, thinking.

* * *

"_Abba?_" Tim looked up from his writing. Asher stood in front of him, silent. A moment passed, before Tim saved his work and shut his laptop, patting the space beside him on the sofa.

"What do you want to talk about, sweetheart?" The boy sighed.

"Have... have you ever been... F... French kissed?" Tim's green eyes widened and he thought a moment.

"Why do I get the feeling this has something to do with Devin and this afternoon?" He watched his son duck his head, embarrassed. "Did she try to French kiss you?" Asher shook his head.

"No... but she said... that... that someday she'd like to... to try it." Tim nodded in understanding.

"And what do you think?" The boy thought a moment, biting his lip.

"I think I should kill her." Tim rolled his eyes.

"You can't kill her, sweetheart. Devin's just a girl. Girls are..."

"Confusing." The boy whispered, as Tim picked up his cup and took a sip of his coffee. He nodded.

"And they don't get any_ less_ confusing as they get older. If anything, they get even more convoluted and confusing as they grow into women. I _still_ have trouble figuring out your mother at times. Actually most of the time, come to think of it." Asher giggled softly, waiting as his father took a sip of his coffee. "Asher, we trust you. And you know the consequences, you're _proof_ of that. Take things slow with Devin. Relationships and dating are confusing and scary and-"

"We aren't in a relationship_, Abba_. We aren't dating."

"Are you sure?" He nodded.

"We talked about it. We don't want to date. We just..."

"Just want to kiss and hold hands and get to know each other. That's understandable. I'm sure if _Ima_ and I had done that..." He stopped. "If _Ima_ and I had done that,_ you_ wouldn't be here. Never mind, ridiculous statement." Tim took a deep breath. "So you talked about _someday_ trying French kissing." The boy nodded. "Then take the time you have now to get to know her. Hold hands with her, kiss her, but don't go any further. Neither of you are ready for anything that hot and heavy, and _Ima_ and I are_ not_ ready to become grandparents." Asher giggled. "Okay?" The boy nodded.

"Just take things slow. Who knows, you may find that you like that a hell of a lot better." He reached out, gently ruffling the boy's curls before brushing his thumb over the apple of his son's cheek. "Now get some sleep. With any luck, we all may be able to sleep through the night." Asher nodded, getting up and leaning towards his father. He wrapped his arms around Tim in a hug, laying his head on his shoulder for a moment.

_"Toda, Abba." _

_"Al lo davar."_

When Asher pulled away, he pressed a kiss to his father's cheek._ "Laila Tov."_ Tim chuckled gently, pressing a kiss to his son's head before sending him upstairs.

_"Chalomot ne'imim, motek."_

Ziva gently ruffled her son's hair as he passed her on the stairs; once gone, she wandered into the living room. "Sweet dreams?" Tim shrugged, reaching for her as he set his cup down. She went to him, allowing him to pull her onto his lap.

"Figured he could use it." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "_You're supposed_ to be in bed."

"Believe it or not, Timothy, it gets cold without you there to keep me warm." He nuzzled against her cheek, and she grinned, pulling away. "You've given our son excellent advice."

"Maybe, but how do you know he'll follow it?" She grinned, reaching up to take his face in her hands.

"Because Asher _hates_ to disappoint us, especially you. He looks up to you _so much_, Tim. Even before, when it was just Asher and I in Israel, he looked up to you, and he didn't even_ know_ you. _All_ he _knew_ was that he had a father, a father who would have _loved him_ and _been there for him_ had he _known_ of his existence. And even then, everything he did was so that he didn't disappoint you. He kept telling me that when we did find you, that he was going to tell you of_ all the wonderful things_ he'd done so far, and that he _knew_ you would be _so proud_ of him... and you are."

"Of course I am, Zi. He's my son. I'll always be proud of him, no matter what." She smiled softly at him, resting her forehead to his.

"I know you will, baby. I know you will." She kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms tight around his neck as she settled in his lap. When she broke the kiss, her dark eyes snapped open. She gently, playfully ran a finger down his lips, "Now what's this about having trouble trying to figure me out because I'm a convoluted and confusing woman?"

Tim's green eyes shifted, trying not to meet her gaze. "Um... it was just an _example_, Zi... I wasn't _serious_..."


	25. Chapter 25

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to silvermoon217 for reviewing 20 and 24; and Reader for reviewing 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 and 24.**

_"I don't have a boyfriend!"_

"No, you have _two_!_ Ow! Do you have to hit?"_

_"Don't make fun of me and I won't hit you!" _

_"Well stop acting like you're better than everyone else and I won't make fun of you!"_

"I am better- at least better than_ you, brother_!"

"And what makes you_ better_?"

"Simple. I'm a _lady,_ like _Ima_." Ziva chuckled softly, rolling her eyes as she listened to her two youngest argue. As long as they didn't seriously injure each other or break something, Ziva really didn't mind the arguing, and she often found that the best entertainment came from her children. She glanced down at her oldest; Asher was helping her can the fruit preserves; they'd all gone out earlier to the beach, spending the early morning walking along the sand as a family- something Ziva knew her children loved to do, even more than when they were with friends. The boy leaned into his mother's side, and Ziva reached down, wrapping her son in a hug.

_"You're not a lady! You're nothing but a sister! And an annoying one! Ow! That hurt!"_ Ziva snorted softly; she knew that if Zipporah hadn't hit Liron in the back of the head, she'd most likely hit hard enough to bruise his shoulder. She glanced down at Asher.

"What do you think, my angel?" She whispered conspiratorially. "Should we break up the fight before they kill each other?" Asher wrinkled his nose, thinking.

"Can we watch instead, _Ima_? It'd be fun to watch." She chuckled, pressing a kiss to her son's head.

_"Don't pull my hair!" _

_"Then don't hit me!" _

_"You aren't supposed to pull a lady's hair! It's rude!"_

_"You aren't a lady, Zippi, you're a sister!"_ Ziva and Asher stayed in the kitchen, laughing softly over the arguing taking place in the living room, over what, they didn't know.

"_What is going on?_" Both stopped their laughter as Tim's voice broke up the fight, and Ziva quickly set the empty jar down and rushed into the living room. Tim stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the scene before him. Liron was laying with his face pressed into the floor, with Zipporah sitting on top of him, holding his arms behind his back. Ziva covered her mouth to hid the soft laughter. Tim turned to her. "You have _any_ idea-" She shook her head.

_"Abba, get her off me, please! She's fat!"_

_"I'm not fat, you're just stupid!"_ As the two continued to argue, Tim decided that it was time to end whatever was going on and went to his two youngest, taking Zipporah's arm and yanking her to her feet before helping his youngest son to his.

_"What the hell is wrong with you two?"_ He demanded, ending the continuing attempt to harm each other in some way. Both looked up at him, eyes wide._ "Have you lost your minds?"_ They shook their heads.

"No_, Abba_."

"Then what the hell were you trying to do besides_ kill_ each other?" He replied, forcing them both into the kitchen towards the table. Once the kids were seated, Ziva and Asher returned to their work, paying close attention to the other three. Tim leaned against the back of one of the other chairs. "_Explain_."

Neither spoke, they just shared glances. A moment passed, before Zipporah spoke up. "Liron said I had a boyfriend. I don't have a boyfriend."

"I said you had _two boyfriends_, and you do!" Liron replied. Zipporah glared at him.

"I _don't have a boyfriend_!" Tim held up a hand, and the two instantly shut up.

"Start from the beginning. What _boy_?" Ziva rolled her eyes. She glanced at her oldest son, leaning close to whisper in his ear,

"And here we go." Asher giggled.

"Kevin Ó'Bradáin,_ Abba_. And Owen Teagan. Owen dances with us and Kevin plays soccer." Tim narrowed his eyes. "They both like Zippi, and she says she doesn't like them, but she does. So she has two boyfriends to choose from. _Ow!"_ Liron turned to his sister; she glared at him, silent. "Don't do that!"

_"Stop it, both of you!"_ They instantly stopped, silent. Tim turned to his only daughter. "There will be _no boys_ in this house _except_ for your brothers, do you understand me, Zipporah?"

_"That's not fair, Abba!"_ She cried. _"Brother has a girlfriend, you let Devin come over all the time!"_

"She's_ not my girlfriend, Zippa_!" Asher snapped, turning to his sister.

_"You kiss and hold hands, isn't that what girls do with boyfriends who date?"_ She challenged.

_"We aren't dating! We're just friends!" _

_"Who kiss!"_ Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. Zipporah turned to Liron. "And you have a girlfriend!" Liron narrowed his eyes at her.

"Keavy is _not_ my girlfriend!" He ground out, glaring at his sister.

"_Ken,_ she is! You kiss her_ all the time_!" Zipporah replied. Everyone stopped when Ziva dropped a jar in the sink, causing it to shatter.

"Are you okay_, Ima_?" Asher asked, worried. Ziva nodded, rinsing the small cut on her finger.

_"Ken_, I'm fine, my angel." Once she'd dried her hands, she turned to her youngest son. "Now... who is Keavy?" Everyone turned back to Liron, who sank into his seat. "Liron David, who is Keavy?" He swallowed.

"She plays curling, like Asher."

"Why didn't you introduce us to her?"

"You've met her, Ima. She's gone to the beach with us."

"And you've started dating her without asking _either Abba_ or I for permission?" Ziva asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

_"We aren't dating!_ We just... hold hands and... and..."

"Kissing." Asher whispered; Liron nodded. Tim sighed, leaning against the back of the chair. He shook his head, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

"My sons are in relationships and my baby girl has two boys chasing after her." He chuckled softly. "Like I need anymore gray hair." Asher gently tugged on his father's arm, needing to clarify.

"Abba, we_ aren't_ in relationships and we _aren't_ dating."


	26. Chapter 26

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"You okay, baby?" Tim looked up as he shut the bedroom door behind him and slowly undressed. He sighed, tossing his shirt in the hamper.

"I just spent _two hours_ talking to our youngest children and giving them the same advice I gave Asher." She closed her book, letting her gaze move over his bare chest, catching sight of the tattoos on his wrists for their children.

"And how did they react?" She asked, setting her book on the nightstand and crawling towards him as he took a seat on the bed and continued to undress. She slid one arm around his shoulders, slipping her other hand over his bicep and down his chest, walking her fingers along the hem of his jeans and down to slip between to gently caress his inner thigh. She squeezed gently, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

"The same way Asher reacted."

"Calm and rational." She replied, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Sure, calm and rational, after they _both_ suggested killing the people causing the problems." She chuckled softly. "They're like you, Zi. It's easier to _remove_ the problem than deal with it."

"Well it is, sometimes." Tim met her gaze, rolling his eyes. "It's just a _suggestion_, Tim." She defended, sliding her small fingers up to rub against him. A giggle escaped her throat, and she enjoyed the soft moan that worked its way up her husband's throat, before she found herself laying back on the bed._ "Timothy!"_ He chuckled, holding her down as he kissed her deeply before moving down to brush his lips against her breasts and move down to kiss her stomach as Ziva's fingers moved to tangle her fingers in his hair. He stopped, pulling away to study the flesh over her belly. Gently, he reached out, brushing his fingertips over the faint stretch marks on her skin.

"I'm a father." His whisper was so soft, she thought she hadn't heard at first. Slowly, she pushed herself onto her shoulders.

"What did you say?" It was then that Tim looked up at her. "Tim, what's wrong?" But he just got up and finished getting ready for bed. When he slipped into bed beside her, she reached out, unbuttoning his shirt and splaying her fingers over his chest. "Talk to me, baby." He lay on his back, folding his arms under his head and staring at the ceiling.

"I'm a father, Zi." She lay beside him, propping her head on her hand as she gently traced patterns on his chest.

"I know. You were there when two of our children were born. And you were there when all three were conceived." He sighed. "What is this about? Tim?" He met her gaze.

"They're our children, Ziva. They're our babies. And they're... holding hands and kissing and... they're not supposed to grow up this fast." She continued to trace patterns on his chest.

"We did. We had no choice. And neither do our children." She pressed a kiss to his lips, before settling on his chest. "We are raising them right, Tim. They're responsible, strong. They will make the right decisions with their lives, because they're learning from us." She felt him wrap his arms around her and squeeze gently before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

_She took a deep breath. "I do not want to be here, Ima. Please, can we go home?" _

_Gently, Rivka reached up, taking her daughter's chin her hand. She searched her daughter's face for several minutes, before whispering, _

_"I know, Zivaleh. But you have to see the midwife, we have to know that the baby is okay and that there are no complications. You went twenty weeks without seeing a midwife. It is dangerous for you and the baby to go so long without prenatal care."_ _It had taken them four weeks to get Ziva settled and everything adjusted at the house for Ziva once they brought her from Tel Aviv. Rivka hadn't been able to make an appointment with the midwife for her daughter until two weeks after they came to Be'er Sheva. The two looked up as the midwife- a woman in her late forties to mid-fifties- came into the room. She smiled at both mother and daughter before taking a seat on the stool._

_"Shalom, Rivka." Her mother whispered the soft greeting in reply. "So, this is Zivaleh. I remember when you were a baby yourself. I delivered you, and your sister." She studied the young girl. "And now you are having your own baby." Ziva looked away. She opened her mouth to explain, but the woman held up a hand. "I understand. Rivka explained it to me, but she did not need to. I have been in your shoes."_

_"You have?" Ziva's eyes widened in shock. The woman nodded._

_"Ken. Only I was forced to give my baby up." She watched the younger woman's arms move down to slide over her bulging tummy. Since she'd hit the twenty week mark, her belly had grown faster and bigger with each passing week. When she'd asked Ari, he'd told her that it was common for a first-time expectant mother's belly to start showing after twenty weeks, and to grow faster as each week passed. "Now, shall we see how the little one is doing?"_

_After a moment, Ziva lifted her shirt, exposing the swell of her tummy. The woman's hands slowly moved over her skin, feeling for the head and feet, before bringing the ultrasound over. Ziva lay back on the table, taking deep breaths to calm her heart as she watched the woman move the device around on her belly, before turning the monitor towards her. "Well, Esther, how is my grandbaby?" The woman gave them both a smile._

_"He is doing fine. You have a very, very healthy baby boy growing in there." Ziva's head snapped towards the woman._

_"... I... I am having a... a little boy?" She nodded._

_"Ken, Ziva." The girl choked on a sob, taking her mother's hand. She met Rivka's eyes, tears sliding rapidly down her cheeks._

_"We have a son... he gave me a son..."_

She let the sonogram photo drop back into the memory chest, and sat back, looking through the photographs. She had been twenty-five weeks the day she found out that Tim had left her with a son growing in her belly... and it had made the remaining weeks of her pregnancy that much harder, because he would never get to see his baby boy.

A moment passed before she turned to Liron's memory chest; all three made their home in the safe hidden in the wall in the living room- something that had been added when the cottage was built, Fiona had told them. Tim and Ziva both kept their guns locked in it, and Ziva had put her children's memory chests in it as well as a few other things that were precious to the family. Silent, she shuffled through everything, finding the letters she'd written to Tim during her second pregnancy, and then turned to Zipporah's chest, finding the photos taken during her third. She chuckled softly.

The first photograph she'd picked up from Zipporah's memory chest was in the first trimester of her pregnancy. She was leaning back against the kitchen counter in their apartment in D.C., one hand resting on the counter, wearing nothing but a white tank top pushed up beneath her breasts and a pair of bikini underwear. Her belly protruded out in front of her- in the photo, she could see the curve of her growing tummy- and she lay on hand on the side her belly; she was staring down at the bulge that held their daughter, her long dark curls a mess around her head. The sun shown around her, casting a glow about her small body, giving the photo an almost angelic look. She hadn't even been aware that Tim had taken the photo. After a moment, she turned it over, reading her husband's scroll.

_My Ziva, twelve weeks, and looking absolutely beautiful into her third pregnancy with our baby girl in her belly_

She chuckled softly, grinning at the simple, heartwarming sentence. After a moment, she put the chests back in the safe, but held the photo back, going into the kitchen. Tim was fixing tea, and he looked up as she made her way towards him. She held it out to him, and after setting the kettle down, he took the photograph, reading the back quickly. A smile flitted across his face. I was not even aware you'd taken it."

He chuckled. "It was just such a beautiful shot that I couldn't pass it up."

"What is it, _Ima_?" Zipporah asked, turning to her mother. Silent, Ziva went to her daughter, holding out the photograph. The girl took it, reading the back before turning it over. She studied it, her eyes wide. "That's_ you, Ima_?" Her mother nodded.

"_Ken._ That's me. And that," She leaned over the back of the chair, tapping the center of the photograph with her finger. "_that_ is you." Zipporah met her mother's gaze as Ziva nodded.

"It is?"

_"Ken."_

"But... but it doesn't _look_ like me."

Ziva giggled softly. "That's because when Abba took that picture, you were growing in my tummy. I was only three months pregnant with you when this was taken. You wouldn't look like you for another _six months_. So _of course_ it doesn't look like you, silly girl." She nuzzled her nose against her daughter's before quickly flicking her tongue against the tip of her daughter's nose like a mother dog would do to her pup. Zipporah giggled, and after a moment, Ziva pressed a kiss to her daughter's head before straightening.

_"Ima_ has_ lots_ of pictures of when we were each in her belly, Zippa." Asher replied, looking up from his book. Ziva took the photo back from her daughter and returned it to her chest in the safe.

"You _do_? Can I see more?" Zipporah asked, turning to face her mother as she returned to the kitchen. Ziva accepted the mug Tim held out, and pressed a kiss to his cheek as she leaned against the counter.

"Maybe after lunch, my songbird, okay?" The girl nodded, thinking.

"_Ima_?" Ziva waited, sipping her tea. "Do-" But the shaking of the house and the sound of someone pounding on the door interrupted the girl, and after a moment, Tim and Ziva set their cups down, rushing to answer the door. The kids shared glances before following. They stopped in the living room as Ziva opened the door.

"Devin?" Neither she nor Tim recognized the girl. She was shaking and covered in dust and grime, there was a streak of blood across her cheek and she was crying.

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. McGee, but... _butIdinnaknowwhoelsetofind.._." She burst into tears, and Ziva reached out, taking her hand.

"Slow down, Devin and talk to us. Okay? Slow down." The girl took a deep breath, noticing Asher and his siblings sneak up behind their parents to listen. She swallowed, forcing the lump in her throat down. She sniffled, fresh tears in her eyes.

_"Someone bombed the Bryne's house... there's... de... debris... please... I... I dinna know who else to..." _


	27. Chapter 27

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Without a word, Tim and Ziva had followed Devin; the block the Bryne's lived on was gone, and there were several collapsed homes and smoldering piles of debris. People could be heard screaming from inside the wreckage, and police and firemen were doing all they could to get to those trapped. When Devin moved to follow, Tim and Ziva ordered her to stay back with some of the other survivors. They worked long into the night, helping in an effort to try to free people trapped below the collapsed buildings. Eventually, Tim and Ziva sent Devin and a couple of the other kids Asher and his siblings went to school with back to their house, so they wouldn't be in the way of the rescue effort.

* * *

Asher rushed to the door, yanking it open. "_Abba_-" But he stopped at the sight of Devin and a couple of their friends, covered in dirt, blood and smoke. His green eyes quickly searched behind their friends, worry starting the tug at his heart. "Where are _Abba_ and_ Ima_?"

Devin swallowed. _"T... trying t'... t' help..."_ Asher glanced over his shoulder, Zipporah and Liron were sitting on the sofa, silent. After a moment, he stepped aside, letting the others in. As the door closed, Asher asked,

"Where are Grania and-"

"Someone bombed the Bryne's but... but it took out all the houses on the block." Liam Quinn replied. Zipporah tried to stifle a gasp, covering her mouth. "_Chloe was over at the O'Reilly's..."_ He sniffled, tears in his eyes.

"It wiped out the Teagans and Ó'Bradáins too. And the Malones _an'_ the McCabes. And killed Mrs. O'Shea." Keavy Gallagher replied. She was Liron's age, and played on the girl's Curling team at Belgrove; but like Asher, he and Keavy weren't dating and didn't call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, they were just getting to know one another- even though they often held hands and kissed.

Silent, Asher rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a towel, filling a bowel with warm water and setting it on the kitchen table. The others followed, and after a moment, Asher pulled out a chair. Devin pushed Keavy towards the chair first. Slowly, the younger girl sat, and allowed Asher to gently clean the soot and dirt off her skin. She didn't seem to notice when he brushed over the cuts and bruises on her hands and face; she appeared to be in shock. As he worked on cleaning the smoke out of her hair, he asked, "What... what happened?"

Silence passed for several minutes before Keavy met his gaze. "I... I went outta get the mail... and I... I heard a car p... pull up down the block a-ways and..." She sniffled. "And when I looked up next... I was laying on the sidewalk across the street..." She choked on a sob, searching Asher's gaze but not seeing him._ "Me baby brother and Ma were still inside... Da's at work..."_ She broke down, but by then, Asher had cleaned off as much of the smoke and dirt as he could. The girl stood, only to grab onto Asher's hand and the table. She gave him a tiny smile and took a step, her knees giving out. Liron rushed forward to help, catching her around the waist as Asher grabbed her arm.

Shaking, Keavy looked up into Liron's green eyes, and after a moment, slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing. The boy glanced at his older brother, before taking leading her to the stairs and sitting her on the bottom step. Then, he sat beside her, awkwardly holding her close as she cried. Neither of Tim and Ziva's boys were very good with emotions, but they'd watched their father enough over the months to understand that when a girl wanted to cry, it was best to let them cry, especially if they had a shoulder to cry on.

As Asher gently worked on Liam's hand, he winced and pulled away._ "Ow."_

"Sorry, are you okay?" The younger boy nodded, glancing around.

"_Me_ older brothers and sister and I went to the bookstore to pick up something- it's... _'tis_ our aunt's birthday tomorrow and... and she's coming down from Derry _tomorra'_ morning... and when we got home..." He met Zipporah's eyes, wincing as Asher brushed over his wrist again. "the street was gone... Chloe was over at the O'Reilly's... and..."

Squeezing the younger boy's shoulder, Asher got up to empty the bowl and fill it with fresh water. Devin joined him. "I'm sorry. I... I _dinna mean t'... t' take yer parents... I jus'..."_ Asher shook his head.

"No. They... _Abba_ and _Ima_ will _always_ run towards the danger instead of away from it." He shrugged. "It's who they are." He returned the bowl to the table and handed his baby sister a fresh cloth; she sat beside Liam, gently working to clean the smoke off his skin. Then, he filled another bowl with warm water and grabbed another cloth, dipping it in the water before holding out a hand. A moment passed before she rested her hand gingerly in his, wincing as he began to clean her off.

She swallowed. "I..._ Ma_ and I were coming back from the store... we _jus'_ stepped onto the sidewalk when the bombs went off... threw us both across the street... _Ma's_ helping find people... told me _t'... t'_ go get... help... I know I _shouldna_ have asked, but..." He shook his head, cleaning the smoke off her face and then working on her hair. She followed his gaze as he glanced over her shoulder at his younger brother and sister. Keavy was sobbing on Liron's shoulder as they sat on the stairs, and Zipporah and Liam were talking softly together. "Are they in... not-relationships-not-dating like we are?" He nodded.

"Yeah._ Abba_ says that... that's the best thing to be in." She nodded.

"I think he's right-" She stopped, confused by the startled look on Asher's face. "Asher?"

* * *

"I'm sorry about Chloe." Zipporah whispered; Liam nodded, sniffling.

"I_ shoulda_ asked her_ t'_ go with us." He licked his lips, tears sliding down his cheeks. Zipporah rang the cloth out and returned to working on his hand. There were bits of debris and dirt caught in the wounds on his palm, and she was gentle as she worked on brushing them out of his skin.

"It's not your fault, Liam." She replied, meeting his gaze. His blue eye searched hers, tears glistening in the blue depths. Zipporah had had a crush on Liam since they met at Belgrove, but she was afraid he didn't like her and that Chloe wouldn't want to be friends with someone who liked her twin brother. And then, a week before the shooting that had started all this violence, Chloe had taken her aside at their dance classes.

_"Me brother, he keeps askin' 'bout ye. Wants t' get t' know ye. Liam, he... he has a crush on ye, Zip. He likes ye. He... he wants t' know if... if ye like him too."_

She stopped working on his palm, Chloe's words ringing loud in her head. So he did like her, and all these months, she'd hid from him, watching Asher's example as he dodged Devin. Zipporah always prided herself on being different from her brothers; where Asher ran from a problem to think on it and weigh the options, and Liron played tease and joked around to loosen whatever tension the problem caused, Zipporah was different, or so she liked to think. She was more like _Ima. Ima_ would go after what she wanted; she had with _Abba_. Yes, as far as Zipporah was concerned, she was like her mother.

Slowly, she gently slid her fingers through Liam's, being careful of the damage done thanks to the explosion. She licked her lips, taking a deep breath as she met his eyes. A moment passed, before she leaned forward, acting on impulse, and caught his lips. Asher stopped talking, surprised, and Liron and Keavy looked up, both boys startled to see their baby sister locked in a kiss.

None of them heard the front door open.


	28. Chapter 28

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Zipporah!"_

Slowly, the girl pulled away, turning to find her parents in the doorway, but neither of them had snapped at her. Both were too in shock to say much of anything. Asher rushed to his parents, and his siblings quickly followed. Minutes passed in a flurry of confusion, before Asher and his siblings were able to get their parents to sit at the kitchen table. Liron quickly filled a bowl with water and grabbed a cloth, working on wiping away the smoke on his mother's face. Asher, meanwhile, pulled Zipporah into the living room._ "What was that, Zippa?"_ She looked up at him.

"Just a kiss. You _should know_, you kiss Devin all the time." She moved to return to the kitchen, but Asher yanked her back.

_"You're not supposed to be kissing!" _

_"If you can kiss someone, brother, then so can I!"_ He shook his head.

_"No! You're my sister!" _

_"So I'm not allowed to kiss anyone but you are? How is that fair?"_ When Asher didn't reply, she pulled away, rushing to help take care of their parents. When they returned, Tim had removed his jacket, revealing the bloodstain on his shirt sleeve.

"_Abba!"_ Zipporah rushed to him, tears in her eyes. Tim stared at it before looking up at his daughter.

"I... I didn't realize..." The siblings shared glances; their parents seemed to be in shock. Asher glanced at the clock on the stove.

Two a.m.

The explosion had happened at about... eight, if Asher remembered correctly. So his parents had been gone, digging through debris and wreckage for survivors for six hours, most likely without a break to catch their breath. He watched as his baby sister gently pushed up the sleeve of their father's shirt, revealing the jagged cut in his arm. _"Oh, Abba."_ She choked on a sob, tears sliding down her cheeks. Tim glanced at the cut and then at his daughter.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. I promise." But even his children knew that their father- that both their parents- were in shock. He turned to his mother; Liron was gently dabbing at a cut on their mother's forehead, and she was bleeding from the temple, as though she'd been hit with something. Her dark curls were matted with blood and dirt, and Asher smiled to see his siblings using gloves. They'd learned- from watching their parents with NCIS- to always use fresh gloves when dealing with blood of any type- dried or fresh- to prevent transmitting disease. After a moment, Asher rushed upstairs and retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom.

* * *

"Can't sleep?" Ziva looked up from her coffee as Tim came into the kitchen.

"They're sound asleep." She replied, as he came back into the kitchen after checking on Devin, Keavy and Liam. Eventually, Ziva had been able to tell the children who they believed was alive and who they knew were fatalities.

Liam whispered that he already knew Chloe was dead- one of the cars had been parked directly in front of the O'Reilly's house, there was no way anyone in that home survived the explosion; Ziva had been the one to find Keavy's baby brother, and she'd broken down as the fourteen-month-old's body was pulled from the wreckage and laid on a stretcher before being covered by a sheet, and Keavy's mother was in critical at Beaumont Hospital in Dublin. More dead than alive, at his point. The two had allowed the three to stay the night, refusing to send them out into the chaos that was currently their neighborhood. They'd take them to relatives in the morning. As soon as the three curled up in the living room, they fell asleep, exhausted thanks to the stress and horror of the day.

As Tim took a seat next to his wife, he whispered, "Are you sure this is a good idea, Zi-"

"They're children, Tim."

"Yeah, children who've-"

"Who have_ just_ lost family members. Who have witnessed_ horrible_ things. All they want is a place to sleep that they can view as safe. If we can give them that for the night, we will." Then, she turned back to the photographs she'd brought out of her children's' memory boxes. Scattered over the table, they were images of her in various stages of pregnancy, all calling back to a time when her life had been- at some point- not marked by the violence that seemed to follow them. Slowly, Tim picked one of the photos up, turning it over to read the back.

_Twenty-eight weeks with baby boy _

_Be'er Sheva, Israel_

He turned the photograph around; Ziva was obviously pregnant with Asher, and sitting on the sofa in the house in Be'er Sheva with Tali, folding baby clothes. Her belly protruded in front of her, and the sisters appeared to be deep in conversation. After a moment, he set the photo down and picked up another one. This photo he knew, he remembered taking.

Ziva was in their bedroom in the apartment in D.C., in only a bra and underwear, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. It had been not long after they'd called Tali; she sat on the floor, legs out in front of her, hands cradling her belly, one hand on top her belly, the other beneath. He chuckled softly; Zipporah's birth had been the shortest of all them, but it hadn't been easy on her mother. Like her second pregnancy, Ziva's belly had expanded rapidly- she'd shown with Zipporah at seven weeks, and by the time she'd hit twenty, she'd looked like she was thirty weeks along. And when she'd hit forty...

"Remember this, Zi?" She took the photo, studying it.

"I was in labor. Tali hadn't arrived yet, and Zipporah had yet to make her entrance." She chuckled softly. "God, I was huge. I_ still_ find it hard to believe that I only had Zipporah inside me. You'd have thought I was carrying twins or triplets." Tim chuckled.

"Well, considering that she weighed... what did Tali say? Eight pounds?" Ziva snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Nine, four." He winced. "Yeah, _you_ wince. It wasn't you pushing that child out that day, Timothy. Besides, Tali told me that it's normal for babies to be between seven and nine pounds. As long as she didn't go over nine pounds, I was fine. And I was. It was a fast labor, a fast delivery... and she was perfectly healthy. I could have killed you and I wanted to, but other than that, she was beautiful and-"

"Still is. And getting more beautiful every day." Ziva smiled softly.

"And she's a_ perfectly_ healthy, normal little girl. Actually, now that I think of it," He waited, watching her.

"What?" She met his gaze.

"I think she still _has_ some of that baby weight. That really wouldn't surprise me, especially after what she put through for nine months and an hour of labor and an hour of birthing... yeah, that child put me through nine months and two hours of hell... but it was worth it." She stopped thinking. "She was_ tiny_ for nine pounds."

"Considering who her mother is-" Ziva smacked him gently, glaring at her husband. He chuckled, kissing her quickly before he whispered, "Was my mind playing tricks on me tonight, or was my baby girl kiss Liam Quinn?" His wife stopped, thinking back. She covered her mouth to stop the squeal, and Tim groaned. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, before gathering the photos up and placing them in the correct boxes. Once they were tucked away in the safe, she took his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"Come to bed, Timothy. I can make you forget all about our baby girl growing up." He shook his head.

"Do_ not_ use those words."

"What words?"

"Growing up."


	29. Chapter 29

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: It looks like this is going to be another over 30 chapter story. Sorry guys... **

She snuck down the stairs, being careful not to wake her parents. Once she reached the kitchen, she checked the time on the stove.

Four a.m.

Her parents were sound asleep- something told her no one would be up at four or five today like the family usually was. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the living room and scanned the floor, finding who she wanted. Being careful not to wake Keavy and Devin, she tiptoed towards the third occupant and knelt down, shaking him gently.

"Liam._ Liam_!" He sat up, shaking, and she reached out, gently taking his hand. "It's just me! You're okay, you're safe." Several minutes passed before he realized who it was, and relaxed.

"Zipporah? Wh... what are ye-" She swallowed.

"Couldn't sleep. I... I woke up and found Abba changing the bandage on his arm and..." Tim had tucked her into bed, sitting beside her and letting her talk as she wrapped her arms around his neck and apologized for everything she could think of that she'd done wrong. He'd held her, knowing it was partially because of the explosion, and partially because of the nightmare that plagued her and her siblings. Eventually, she'd calmed down enough and let her father tuck her back in. He'd talked to her for several minutes, promising that everything would be okay, and that he and_ Ima_ weren't going anywhere, that she and her brothers would be safe. "C... can we talk?"

A moment passed before he nodded, pushing the blanket aside and pulling his knees to his chest. "Sure."

"Not here. Somewhere private?" Liam froze; if she was suggesting her bedroom, there was no way in hell he was going up there unless he wanted Mr. McGee to break his neck and preserve his organs for winter stew.

"Where?" She swallowed.

"Outside? In the backyard?" He thought a moment, glancing around, before nodding and climbing to his feet. Zipporah grabbed the blanket and the pillow and led him outside, shutting the backdoor softly behind her.

Once they'd spread the blanket on the grass and laid the pillow down, they settled on their backs, watching the stars twinkle above them. Silence filled the void for several minutes, before Liam choked out, "I know Chloe's dead but... it doesn't seem real... she's my twin sister..." Zipporah took his hand, lacing their fingers. He took a deep, shaky breath, sniffling.

"_Abba_ found her body, or... what was left. I'm sorry, Liam." He nodded, meeting her gaze, tears slipping down his cheeks. Gently, tenderly, she reached up, brushing the tears away. She sighed, turning back to the stars.

"When we came here, we left everyone behind. Tali and Sarah, my _Dodas,_ and Damon and Michael-"

"Your uncles?" She nodded.

"And our _Savta_, Penny and... and Mr. Gibbs and Tony and Mr. Ducky and everyone at NCIS."

"NCIS?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service." Liam nodded, understanding. "_Ima_ and _Abba_ worked for NCIS, and then they resigned, and we moved here." She swallowed. "I miss them. Especially since, Sarah_ Doda's_ having a baby soon. Around Halloween. She wants us down there with her when the baby's born, but... we can't leave. Especially since they closed the airports. And _Ima_ and_ Abba_, they try to protect everyone but... they know." She sniffled softly. "I just want everything the way it was. _Ima_ and _Abba_ fight, they never fought before... we were happy, and then_ that man was murdered and the grocery store blew up and..."_ She broke down, unable to stop her tears. She'd written everything down, used up eight journals, but writing didn't compare to talking with someone.

Liam watched her, unsure of what to do. A moment passed, before he lifted her chin. "It'll be okay..." She shook her head, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Liam froze; he wasn't used to girls crying around him- except his sister- and this unnerved him. The only sound was her heart-wrenching sobs, and after several seconds, he awkwardly patted her back. "It... I'm sorry, Z... Zipporah. I..." She sobbed harder, murmuring something about recurring nightmares and losing her parents and brothers and being left alone, but Liam didn't catch the rest.

He glanced at the sky; Chloe was probably watching, and he could hear his sister's voice in his head, loud and clear.

_"Don't jus' let her cry! Ye were raised better than that! She's nearly lost ev'rything that mat'ers t' her! I know ye really aren't that heartless to let her cry like she is."_

Slowly, carefully, his slid his arms around Zipporah, holding her close. If her father caught them out here, in this position...

He wouldn't have to worry about being killed in a riot or by an explosion because Mr. McGee would kill him himself.

Taking a deep breath, Liam slowly began to rub her back, whispering softly to her. "It'll be okay. Ev... ev'ryone will be fine... you'll see... we... all of Ireland, we'll be fine..." But Zipporah just sobbed harder, unable to stop the worry and stress she'd lived under for the last several months. How her brothers didn't implode was beyond anything Liam could understand- hell, how that _whole family_ didn't self-destruct was confusing in and of itself.

Eventually, Zipporah looked up at him, tears still streaming down her face, sobs still wracking her small body. She hiccupped, searching his eyes to see if he was lying to her when he promised that everything would be okay. Trying to crack a smile to calm her down, he asked, "_Ye_ better?" Her lower lip quivered, and she choked on a sob. Taking a deep breath, Liam took her face in his hands. "Hey, we will be okay, Zip? We'll all be okay."

"P... p..._ promise_?" He nodded, tears in his own eyes. A moment passed in silence, before she leaned close and kissed him softly. Then, she pulled away and laid her head back on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, her sobs getting harder and more heartbreaking.


	30. Chapter 30

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to silvermoon217 for reviewing 25 and 29; puppypants for reviewing 26; and Reader for reviewing 25, 26, 27, 28 and 29.**

Seven in the morning.

Ziva moaned softly and slipped out from her husband's embrace, raking a hand through her tangled curls. She turned back to her husband; Tim was sound asleep, and she sighed, reaching over and gently brushing the hair off his forehead. At least he was getting some sleep- the painkillers were good for something, then. They'd both seen horrible things in their lives- absolutely horrible things- mainly during their time under Gibbs. Dismembered bodies, meat puzzles, strangulations, shooting victims- but nothing compared to last night. It wasn't the bodies they'd pulled from the wreckage and debris or the stench of blood, smoke and sulfur filling the air that had turned Ziva's stomach, it had been the screams of those still trapped beneath. It took her back to Israel, to the bombings that marked her childhood, her early years in Mossad. "_Chalomot ne'imim_, baby." She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and then got out of bed, slipping out of the room and gently shutting the door behind her.

Silently, she went downstairs and started the coffee, poking her head into the living room to check on the three children that had stayed over the night before. Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she couldn't put her finger on what seemed off, and so headed back upstairs to get dressed and check on the kids. Both her boys were sound asleep- Liron had snuck into his brother's room in the middle of the night, probably because of a nightmare- and the two boys were laying on the floor, with pillows and a blanket, Jethro between them, keeping them both warm and sound asleep.

Ziva leaned against the doorway for a few minutes, watching her sons. The dog's eyes opened sleepily, and she smiled at the animal. Pushing herself away from the door, she went to the dog, kneeling down to gently scratch behind his ear. "Good boy, Jet. My boys need you right now. You're doing good, sweetheart." She whispered, nuzzling her nose in the dog's soft fur. Asher snuggled closer to the animal, wrapping his arms around the dog and Ziva gently ran a hand through her oldest son's hair before doing the same to her youngest. Then, she stood, going to check on Zipporah.

* * *

Liam slowly opened his eyes. He wasn't in the living room, like he'd been when he curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace with Devin and Keavy the night before. No, he wasn't in the house at all, and there was someone with him. Slowly, he looked down, momentarily surprised to see Zipporah curled against his chest, sound asleep. He swallowed, the night before rushing back to him. With a quick glance towards the house, he prayed that if anyone was up, it was Mrs. McGee, otherwise he was dead.

* * *

She pushed the door to her daughter's room open, expecting to find her either sound asleep like her brothers and father, or laying in bed with a book open in front of her. But instead, she found her daughter's bed wrinkled and the girl gone. A moment passed, followed by the fleeting fear that her daughter had been snatched from the house in the middle of the night. It was fleeting, but that moment was enough to plant the seed in the back of her mind, and she rushed from the room, searching every room, nook and cranny she could think of without waking the other occupants of the house.

Tim had newspaper articles on those they deemed 'The Disappeared'- those taken and abducted from their homes in the middle of the night in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, murdered and buried in secret, unmarked graves- people never found again, forever missing. Stolen in the middle of the night like robbers fleeing an expensive art gallery after a robbery, hundreds upon hundreds of people had gone missing over the months here in the Republic, never to be seen again by their loved ones- either dead or alive. And at that moment, Ziva couldn't help but allow her mind to the rush to that recess of horrible thought as she searched for her baby girl.

She rushed into the bedroom, door slamming against the opposite wall. Tim groaned at the noise and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Zi, it's seven in the morning-"

"I know what time it is, Tim-"

'Then come back to bed. It'll do us all good to get some s-"

"Where's Zipporah?" He sat up, shaking the fog from his mind.

"What?" He asked, green eyes still blurred with sleep as he looked up at his wife. She went to him, dark eyes frantic.

_"Where's Zipporah?"_ Tim sighed, shrugging. Through a yawn, he muttered,

"Still... 'eep in... room..." Ziva shook her head.

"No, Tim, she's _not_. I just checked on her and she's not in her room!_ She's not in the house at all!"_ He reached out, taking her arms and tugging her onto the bed, forcing her to sit and catch a breath as he got up and got dressed.

"Maybe she went out for a run, Zi-"

_"It's too dangerous, Tim, you know that!"_ She cried, as someone knocked softly on the door jam. "And... _and Liam is gone too, he's not downstairs_..."

"Maybe they went out together-"

_"I told you, it's too-"_

"Um, Mr. and Mrs. McGee?" The pair turned, to see Devin in the doorway; the girl was tired, there were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she hadn't slept. "I... I think there's something_ ye_ should see..." The two shared a look and followed her down the stairs, finding Keavy in the kitchen, staring out the window. The younger girl instantly scuttled away, returning to the living room and sitting on the sofa, as Devin pointed out the window. Two figures were curled up in the grass under a blanket. Tim shook his head, unsure of what he was seeing.

"Is that..."

But before he could finish, the back door slammed as his wife rushed out of the house.


	31. Chapter 31

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Zipporah was yanked awake by someone tugging on her arm.

_"Zipporah Rani Nava McGee!"_ She looked up into her mother's eyes; startled. It took a few moments for her to figure out what was going on and where she was, but as she turned to see Liam by her side, shaking at the alarming wake up call, it all came rushing back. They'd come outside to talk, and laid on the blanket staring at the stars-

_"Ima-"_ But before she could say anything else, Ziva had yanked them both to their feet and was pulling them towards the house. Liam listened in silence as Ziva swore in Hebrew, and she winced, knowing what every single word meant. By the time they returned to the house, the others were all up and gathered in the kitchen curious.

"Zi, what's-"

_"What the hell were you two thinking?"_ Ziva snapped, ignoring her husband. She shoved both children into chairs at the table._ "Sleeping together?"_

"You slept together?" Everyone turned to look at Liron, who shrunk back from their mother's glare.

_"Ima_, we didn't-" Zipporah started, but her mother cut her off.

_"My God, Zipporah! Your father and I thought we raised you better!" _

_"We were the watching the stars and talking and we fell asleep Ima, that's all we were doing last night! I swear, Ima! That's all we were doing!"_ The girl cried, tears coming to her eyes.

"Ziva." Tim went to his wife, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Ziva, I think you're over react-" She shove his hand away, turning to face him.

_"Do not tell me, I'm overreacting, Timothy! You know as well as I do the consequences of our actions! We know full well that it only takes once! And while you were off going to college and becoming an NCIS agent, I was raising your son for the first eight years of his life! I am not going to have my daughter follow in our footsteps! I won't!"_ She turned back to the children.

"Um, Mrs. McGee-" Ziva turned to Liam, dark eyes narrowed.

"Get out." He glanced at the others. _"I said get out!"_ Tim shook his head, mouthing softly to the boy, telling him to wait in the living room while he tried to calm his wife down. Slowly, the boy got to his feet, doing as Tim told him to. A moment passed before the other kids followed; Asher and Liron hid on the staircase, Jethro sitting between them, listening. Once they were gone, Zipporah looked up at her mother.

"_Ima_, I'm sorry-"

_"Sheket b'vakashah!"_ The girl did as told, and glanced down at the table._ "My God, Zipporah, what the hell were you thinking?"_ Ziva raked a hand through her tangled curls and took a deep breath. "_You're not supposed to follow in my footsteps! You're supposed to learn from our mistakes!"_

_"But Ima, we weren't-"_

Tim took a deep breath, daring to step between his the two hot heads that were his wife and daughter. "Ziva, maybe we need to let the kids _explain_ before we _jump to conclusions!"_

_"What explaining, Tim? There's no explaining here! You didn't go through what I went through! You didn't live through nine months of pregnancy and eighteen hours of labor to bring our son into the world! You didn't end up raising him alone! I did! And I am not going to let my baby girl go through what I went through_!"

_"Nothing happened, Ima! I wanted to talk, and Liam said he would listen, so we came outside and laid on the blanket and watched the stars and talked! That's all! We fell asleep talking, Ima! Talking! Something you and Abba don't do! Something you never do anymore! You just argue!"_ Tim reached out, grabbing his daughter's hands.

_"Zipporah! Zipporah, that's enough!"_

The girl pulled away, jabbing her finger into her mother's chest. _"Ever since all this started happening, all you and Abba do is argue! All the time! About everything! That's why I don't talk to you! Why Liron and Asher don't talk to you, why we talk to Abba! Because you don't listen! I wish I was in America with Savta and Tali Doda, because then I'd be away from you, Ima! I hate you!"_ She shoved past her mother, rushing up the stairs; Asher reached for his baby sister's hand but she pulled away, and he sighed, nodding for Jethro to follow. The dog did as ordered, rushing after the youngest of his owners' pups, and Ziva jumped as Zipporah's bedroom door slammed.

Silence filled the house, and slowly, Asher crawled down the stairs to check on his mother. Ziva stood in the middle of the kitchen, shaking violently, tears swimming in her eyes. Even years after leaving Mossad, the training she'd gone through still kicked in as she shut down, refusing any sort of comfort or attempt to calm her down. Tim sighed, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He noticed Devin, Keavy and Liam watching from the living room. Taking a deep breath, he asked,

"Did you really have to throw a temper tantrum, Ziva? I thought you were too old for those." She glanced at her husband, glaring daggers at him. He didn't flinch at all, used to her looks.

_"Shut up, Timothy!"_ She snarled, before turning and storming up the stairs; their bedroom door slammed, the final statement in a morning that had started so wrong. Tim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Why do the women in my family have to be so hot-headed?" He muttered, pushing away from the counter.

"Um, Mr. McGee?" Slowly, he turned to the three kids in the living room. Liam swallowed. "I... I'm so_ sorry..."_ Tim sighed. He should be angry at the boy, pissed off beyond belief, siding with Ziva on this issue, but Tim knew better. The boy had been through hell, and maybe that was why Tim gave him the benefit of the doubt. He saw a lot of himself in Zipporah's crush. A moment passed, before Tim shook his head.

"Not your fault, Liam."

"But-"

"There's coffee and tea in the kitchen if you're interested, girls, okay? Give us a moment to talk?" Devin and Keavy nodded, heading into the kitchen with a quick squeeze to Liam's hands. Once they were gone, Tim laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and guided him to the door. "Come on, let's go for a walk."


	32. Chapter 32

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

The smell of salt hung in the air, and Tim turned back to the boy; Liam watched the water, tears running down his cheeks. He'd told Asher and Liron where they were going, and the boys said they'd tell Ziva when and if she came back downstairs soon. He and Liam had walked to the beach in silence, and they hadn't spoken much, lost in their own thoughts. After a moment, Tim sighed. "I'm sorry about the way Mrs. McGee reacted this morning, Liam. She doesn't normally react this badly, but with everything going on..."

"_'Tis_ the stress getting_ t'_ her. Ah... I understand, Mr. McGee._ Me_ parents are the same way. Or... they were." He swallowed, looking up at the older man. "Nothing happened, Mr. McGee, _I swear_. Zipporah_ jus'..._ she_ jus'_ came downstairs_ an'_ asked _t'_ talk _an'_... _an'_ so we... we went outside _an'_ laid in the grass _an'_ watched the stars _an'_ talked._ An'... an'_ she began_ t'_ cry_ an'..._ I... I held her _an'_ let her cry... _an'_ that's... that's it... I _swear,_ Mr. McGee, we _dinna do anything else_-"

Tim held up a hand. "I know." The boy stared at him, confused. "I can see it in your eyes. And believe me, I've been there before, just... just under must worse circumstances."

"What Mrs. McGee said-" Tim nodded.

"Yeah. Only it was her father that caught us and..." He shook his head. "Look, what I'm saying, is that... we were just worried. And we've tried_ so hard_ to protect Zipporah and her brothers from the childhoods we had, that... I think we've just made it worse. But they're our first priority, and so when Mrs. McGee reacted the way she did this morning, it was more from fear than anything." The boy listened, silent. "You have to understand something, Liam, my wife was born and raised in Israel. She grew up around drone strikes and Hamas bombings and assassinations that seemed endless. She lost her brother to an assassin's bullet, and her mother to a suicide bombing."

The water crashed over the sand at their feet, trying to catch them before rushing away in defeat. "What about her _Da_?" Liam asked, softly.

Tim sighed. "Her father was killed. And my wife, long before she came to America, before she found me again, and before any of this... she worked for Mossad. It's the... Israeli Intelligence Service as an assassin and an officer. Her father had trained her to kill, and so showing her emotions, with anything, was forbidden. Which is why-"

"She has a hard time showing them now?"

"Exactly. But the only difference, was that when she started in Mossad, she had Asher-"

"I know. Zipporah told me the story yesterday._ Ye_ really _dinna_ know _'bout_ Asher for eight years, Mr. McGee?" Tim shook his head.

"No. And when I finally met them, I was working at NCIS as a field agent. And finding them... it was the best thing to happen to me."

"So..._ 'twasn't me_ fault?" Asher asked, not fully believing it.

"Wasn't your fault. My wife overreacted. She grew up similar to the way you and Zipporah and her brothers are growing up, and she's terrified. In the back of her mind, she _knows_ nothing happened between you and Zipporah, but the fear she grew up in, outweighs any rational thought. We'll let her cool down for an hour or two and I'll talk to her. Once she's thinking clearly again, she'll understand." He thought a moment. "If you don't mind me asking, what did you two talk about this morning?"

The boy swallowed. "She misses _ev'ryone_ back in the States. Her aunts _an'_ uncles _an'_ grandmother _an'... an'_ people at-"

"NCIS." Tim finished as the boy nodded.

"Yeah. She doesn't want_ t'_ be here anymore."

"No one does. But thanks to the airports being bombed, we have no choice. We have to stay."

"She... she's scared, Mr. McGee." Tim squeezed the boy's shoulder.

"We're all scared, Liam. But we have to find ways to cope with it, otherwise it's only going to run our lives and we can't let it." The boy swallowed.

"So..._ ye... ye_ aren't..._ gonna_ kill me for... for..." Tim shook his head. He knelt down in front of the boy, searching his eyes.

"No. I'm_ glad_ that Zipporah has you to be there for her, Liam. She _needs someone _besides her family there to listen."

* * *

She wrapped her arms around Jethro's neck, nuzzling her face into the dog's soft brown and black fur, hearing a knock at the door. _"Go away!"_

"It's me, Zippa." Her oldest brother's soft declaration broke through the fog of her tears and she climbed off the bed. When she opened the door, she found both Asher and Liron on the other side, worry in their green eyes. She studied her brothers silently, only hiccupping occasionally.

"What do you want?" She asked, reaching up and swiping the back of her hand under her nose.

"Can we talk, Zippi?" Liron asked softly. The girl turned back to Jethro, who watched the children and half-heartedly wagged his tail. After a moment, she moved away from the door. Sharing a glance, the two slipped into the bedroom and softly shut the door behind them. Zipporah climbed back onto her bed, pulling Mr. Bunny Rabbit into her lap. Jethro whimpered softly in hurt, and after a moment, she reached behind her and scratched behind his ear.

"So? Going to yell at me for arguing with _Ima_?"

"Why would we do that?" Liron asked, taking a seat at his sister's desk. Zipporah glared at him, and he shook his head, folding his arms over the back of her chair.

"Because you two are so perfect and I'm the screw up." She muttered. "Because _Ima_ never wanted me in the first place-"

"You're not a screw up, Zippi." Liron replied, resting his chin on his arms. "And why wouldn't _Ima_ have wanted you?"

"Didn't you hear her today? She asked why I didn't learn from her mistakes."

"Zippa," Asher took a seat beside her on the bed. _"Ima_ wasn't talking about you. She was talking about me." His sister looked up at him, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. He reached up, gently brushing the tears off his sister's cheek.

"But... but you aren't a mistake, brother." She choked out, sniffling.

"I know. And _Ima_ knows, she's just... she's just worried." He glanced at Liron, who shrugged. "It was hard, living in Israel. Scary. Like it is here. Only... only worse." He took a deep breath; Jethro moved closer, whimpering softly. The dog lay his head in the boy's lap, looking up at him with big brown doggie eyes. Gently, Asher scratched the dog's head as he talked. "_Ima_ was... she was still with Mossad and... and there were days when she would go away and... and leave me with _Savta_ and-"

"Penny?" Asher shook his head.

"No, Zippi. _Ima's Ima."_

"I've never met-"

"_Savta_'s dead, Zippa." Asher whispered.

"Suicide bombing." Liron added, resting his cheek on his arms. The girl turned back to her oldest brother.

"But... but you got spend time with her, didn't you, brother?" Asher nodded.

"_Ken_. She would... would teach me to read or tell me stories or let me help her bake when_ Ima_ went away on assignment." He swallowed thickly. "And then one day Ima came home and told me that... that something bad had happened and that... that _Savta_ had gone to a new home because the people there wanted her very, very badly." He sniffled. "After that, whenever _Ima_ had to go away on a mission, she would ask the neighbors to watch me..." Zipporah took her brother's hand, squeezing gently. "And I would... I would wait by the window... because I didn't know if she would ever come back..." His sister leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"_Ima_'s scared, Zippi." Liron got up, sitting on his sister's other side. "And... we can't blame her."

"We _shouldn't_ blame her." Asher whispered. He met his siblings' gazes. "Because she grew up like we are."


	33. Chapter 33

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"Where are the boys?" Both Keavy and Devin looked up as Tim led Liam into the kitchen. It was Keavy that spoke.

"Upstairs... A... Asher wanted_ t'... t'_ talk_ t'_ Zipporah _an'... an'_ Liron went_ wit'_ him." Tim nodded, before heading up the stairs. He gently knocked on his daughter's closed door, before poking his head in.

"Everything okay?" He found himself staring into his own eyes. Asher nodded.

"_Ken, Abba_. Just talking." Tim nodded in understanding.

"I'm gonna go check on_ Ima_, okay? You two stay here." The boys nodded as Tim gently shut the door behind him and made his way towards their bedroom. He knocked softly, before pulling the door open and slipping into the room. Ziva was laying on his side of the bed, her back to him, sniffling. He sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door. Best to keep a little distance between him and his wife in case she decided to pounce. "I talked to Liam. They spent all night looking at the stars and talking. Zipporah started to cry and he held her and let her. They fell asleep. _Nothing happened_, Ziva. You have to believe that, and if you don't want to believe Liam, then at least believe _our daughter_. Zipporah wouldn't lie; she can't lie. You know that. She's like me in that respect."

His wife sniffled, but didn't turn towards him. _"I know..."_ She took a shaky breath.

"Then_ what in Hell's name possessed you to act like that this morning_,_ Zi_?" Tim asked, taking a seat on the other side of the bed. She choked on a sob, shifting onto her other side to face him. "They're children, they know better. Zipporah_ damn well knows better than to make that mistake_!_ She's heard the stories, she knows how hard it was for you when you got pregnant with Asher and what those first eight years of her brother's life were like! She knows all about it!" _

_"I know, Tim."_ She choked on another sob, closing her eyes briefly.

_"Then what possessed you to go tearing through the house looking for our child, and then proceed to tear our daughter up one end and down the other this morning? Huh? Explain it to me, please, because I would love to know!"_

She met his gaze, searching his beautiful green eyes. "When she wasn't in her... in her bed, I... I thought..."

"Thought what, Ziva?"

_"That she'd been taken in the middle of the night..."_ She sniffled. "It... it would happen all the time in Israel..." He waited, watching her silently. _"They would come into a house or apartment in the middle of the night and... and knock people unconscious with... with white rags..."_

"Chloroform." Tim clarified. She nodded.

_"And then take them... and chipmunk them away in jail..."_

"Squirrel away." He corrected softly. Ziva ignored his gentle correction.

_"And then take them out into the streets and execute them in the morning, when everyone was out and about, so they would be witnesses. They did it as a warning, that they would execute those they suspected of being sympathetic to the Palestinians. I'm so sorry, Tim, I just... I thought someone had come in and taken our baby girl... and that we'd... we'd find her body in a field... or the street..."_ She choked on a sob, struggling to catch her breath. _"And... and when I saw her outside, I... I don't know..."_

Tim pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He knew that her childhood in Israel affected how she acted, what she said, how she thought, and even though they were hundreds of miles away from the desert country, with years between them and the place of his wife's birth, but he'd had no idea that it was still in the back of her mind, tugging, pulling, playing on her mind, whispering in her ear like some sick addiction that everything had a relation to her childhood in Israel.

And yet... it didn't surprise him in the slightest. His wife had spent years closed off from other people, guarding and hiding her emotions because it was how she'd been raised, and to find her child possibly missing, and then find her outside, sound asleep with a boy in the grass... those emotions she'd tried so hard to keep hidden had to release somehow. Zipporah had just been the one that happened to get the flames this time.

He pressed a kiss to her head as she clung to him.

Outside their parents' room, Zipporah squeezed her brother's hand, nervous. Liron squeezed back, before gently pushing the door open. _"Ima? Abba?"_ Their parents looked up, and slowly, the siblings stepped into the room. Without a word, Zipporah rushed to her mother, throwing her arms around Ziva and burying her face in her neck. The three had huddled at the door, listening to the conversation.

_"I'm so sorry, Ima!"_ After a moment, Ziva slowly wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her close. She pressed a firm kiss to the girl's dark curls, and stroked her hair. _"I didn't mean to... I just..."_

"It's okay, my songbird... we both share blame. But it's over. It's in the past... and..." She glanced at her husband as she pulled away and stared into her daughter's eyes. "And we need to focus on now. Okay?" Zipporah nodded. Ziva gave her daughter a small smile, gently brushing the tears away.

"I don't hate you,_ Ima_. I-"

"I know." Ziva whispered, searching her daughter's eyes. "It was said in anger."

_"You cannot do this to me, Ima!" _

_"We have no choice, Zivaleh!" _

_"Ken, I do-"_

_"And what choice is that, Ziva? To stay here in Tel Aviv and allow your father to try again? To succeed in killing both of you? No, I will not let my daughter suffer that fate. You understand me, I will not!" She pulled away, shoving Rivka hard._

_"And you cannot possibly expect me to just go to Be'er Sheva and spend the rest of my pregnancy there!" But her mother grabbed her, forcing her to meet her gaze. _

_"Would you rather stay here and lose the baby he left growing in your belly? Because that is what is going to happen if you stay here! Your father will be damned if he allows that baby to continue to grow in your belly. Would you rather that? To lose the baby he left behind for you by staying here? Well, answer me, Zivaleh!" _

_She pulled away, glaring at her mother, hands caressing her belly protectively, words dripping with venom. "I hate you."_

Ziva gently stroked her daughter's cheek. "Those words are only meant to be said in anger. Only anger."


	34. Chapter 34

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Around ten, Tim and Ziva left to help, to check for survivors, and promised they'd be back with news on Liam, Keavy and Devin's families. They left Asher in charge, and told him that if anything happened, to call them and let them know. Once they were gone, Liam went to Zipporah, hands in his pockets. "So..." She gave him a small smile.

"We are okay." He returned the smile, as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Eventually, the kids settled into silence, mugs of coffee or tea in their hands. They were unsure of what to do, and felt unprotected with Tim and Ziva there. The adults' presence seemed to calm everything down and keep the kids relaxed. Over the next several minutes, they all drifted upstairs, sitting in the hallway, in hopes that the being there with Jethro would calm them all down.

Asher sat back against the wall, staring into his coffee. "So... what do we call this?" Devin turned to him.

"What do_ ye_ mean?" He shrugged, looking at each of his siblings in turn.

"Well, you and I _aren't_ dating, and we _aren't_ in a relationship, and... and neither are Liron and Keavy or Zippa and Liam, so... what do we call each other? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Because those are words used in relationships." The kids all shared glances. "Abba said that... we should take things slow and... and get to know each other... and that we... we might like it better."

Devin met his gaze. "I like _tha'_ we're taking it slow." The others all nodded. Asher relaxed.

"Good. So do I." They settled into silence again, all hoping that Tim and Ziva would return soon. Zipporah bit her lip.

"I... I want to be there when Sarah _Doda_ has her baby, but... I know we can't go." Liam squeezed her hand, and she pulled her knees to her chest, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Not since they bombed the airports." Liron whispered, as Keavy took his hand and squeezed. "She's due around Halloween, so... three weeks?" Asher nodded. "We would never be able to get there in time. Even if they fixed the airports." Silence filled the hallway again, and after a moment, Asher got up to go downstairs, empty cup in hand. Devin followed, leaving the others with Jethro. When Liron and Keavy finished their coffee, they also went downstairs, leaving Zipporah and Liam together. She pulled away, turning to face him.

"_Toda_." He furrowed his brow, confused. "Thank you." She clarified softly. He nodded.

"For what?" She shrugged.

"For listening to me last night, and... and just being there." He gave her a soft smile, Tim's words ringing in his head.

"You're welcome-a." He replied. "I don't think tha's Hebrew." Zipporah giggled, setting her cup down and taking his hand.

_"Al lo davar." _

"What?"

"_Al lo davar._ It means 'you're welcome' in Hebrew." He let the words sink in, before slowly testing them.

"A... aloe-divar." She laughed, shaking her head.

"_Al-lo-da-VAR_." She pronounced it slowly, and he repeated it slow. She nodded, grinning.

"I got it?"

"_Ken_, yes, you did." Then, she leaned close, kissing him quickly on the lips. He slowly pulled away, meeting her gaze. He gently nudged his nose against hers, nervous. She blushed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, followed by another. Then, she stood, holding out a hand. "Come on." She tugged gently on his hand, racing him down the stairs.

* * *

Ziva brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and looked around. They were only digging bodies out now- the screaming and crying for help had ended hours earlier. She took a deep breath, catching sight of Tim, a few feet away, helping another volunteer carry a stretcher towards the rest of the bodies they'd pulled out so far. "Here." She turned, finding Devin's mother holding a bottle of water out to her. Giving Enya a small smile, she accepted the bottle and took a sip.

"_Toda_." She whispered; Enya nodded, looking around. "Any word on Julietta Gallagher?" Enya shook her head.

"No. Still in critical. Doctor's don't think she'll live_ pas'_ this night." Ziva closed her eyes. She knew the pain of losing her mother; yes, she'd been a grown woman when Rivka was killed in that suicide bombing, but still, it was pain, and pain never went away, no matter how many years passed. To think that Keavy would grow up without her mother in her life- it broke her heart. "They find anyone else alive, by chance?"

Ziva shook her head slowly, dark gaze scanning everything. "We're just pulling the dead out now. Anyone who may have survived yesterday lost that window this morning." She turned back to the other woman, studying her in that way of hers. "Enya, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." A moment passed as Ziva struggled to figure out the right way to ask.

"It's about Devin." She raised an eyebrow at the young mother.

"Devin?" Ziva nodded. "What about her?" The former Mossad officer's tongue darted out to wet her lips before her teeth followed to grasp her lower one.

"She and Asher are-"

"_Not_ dating and_ not_ in a relationship, _aye,_ I know. Devin's adamant that they are just getting to know each other. Why?"

"I know she is your daughter, and that Asher is my son, but..." She bit her lip. Enya waited. "They... they talk about... about 'someday' French kissing and their futures and what they want out of life, and I... I am... I am _glad_ that Asher has Devin because he needs someone to bring him out from behind his books and someone to talk to besides his family, but..." She stopped, biting her lip again, afraid she'd said too much.

"But_ 'tis_ it too much, too fast." Enya finished. Ziva nodded. "I think... I think that_ 'tis_ there decision to make, don't _ye_?"


	35. Chapter 35

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Asher, stop!"_ Devin shrieked as he dumped a mug of water over her head. With their parents still at the explosion sight, the siblings had gotten bored. They'd talked and played Scrabble, watched TV and taken Jethro out in the backyard. Now, though, they were engaging in a mini-water fight in the kitchen to keep themselves occupied on something other than worrying about which city would explode next or who would end up with a bullet in their skull.

They'd covered the furniture in the living room with towels, unplugged and put all the appliances away, and then put some music on to keep the sounds of the explosions and gunfire away. Jethro lay in the living room, watching the pups and their friends, not understanding why they were engaging in a water fight indoors instead of out. After a several minutes, he decided to take a nap instead of watching.

Devin shook her head, sending water everywhere. "_'Tis no'_ fair! It's_ cold_!"

"Of course it is, it's_ water_!" He replied, as Liron managed to get his older brother in the face. The younger boy laughed, before jumping as Keavy slipped an ice cube down his shirt.

"That's not funny, Keavy!" He grabbed her around the waist, and the two slipped on the wet floor. When Liron looked up, Keavy was on top of him, her face inches from his.

"Are _ye_ okay?" She breathed. He nodded, silent.

"Yeah, I'm just sore because you landed on me." She blushed, but didn't move to get up.

"Sorry." Their lips met in a soft kiss, that promptly ended when Zipporah and Liam dumped a small bucket of water over them.

* * *

"_'Twas_ fun." Asher nodded as they headed upstairs. The fight had ended two hours ago, and after promptly cleaning up all the water, making sure all the counters were dry, and returning the appliances back to their homes, the six had then removed the towels and used them to dry off. The others were downstairs at the kitchen table, chatting over coffee and tea, but Asher had dashed upstairs looking for something, and Devin had followed. "Thank _ye_ for this." He gave her a soft smile, kissing her quickly before stepping into his room. "What are_ ye_ looking for?"

He turned back to her; she leaned against the doorway, watching him. "My book- it's on the _Titanic_. Keavy said she wanted to see it. Mr. Gibbs gave it to me for my birthday a couple years after Ima and I came to America, because he knows how much I like to read." Devin sighed, taking a seat on the floor by his bed, watching him search for it.

_"Ye_ like _t'_ read, don't_ ye_?" He knelt beside her, checking under his bed, and he looked up.

"Don't you?"

"I love _t' _read." She reached out, taking his hand, searching his face. "But I love _ye_ more." Asher's eyes widened and he stumbled back, the book suddenly forgotten.

"I... I... I think I left it downstairs." He moved to stand and rush off, but Devin grabbed his ankle.

"Asher... Ash... Asher!" Somehow, she finally managed to get him to stop, and sat beside him on the floor, holding his arms down with her hands. She giggled, blushing in embarrassment. "I _'twas only kidding_! I_ don't_ love _ye_!_ 'Tis_ a joke! _Ye_ don't have_ t'_ run!" He stared up at her, not fully trusting her words.

"I don't?" She shook her head. "So you really don't mean that... that..." She shook her head again.

"No." He let out a sigh of relief.

_"Thank God."_ She giggled again, staring down at him. "What?" A moment passed, as she shook her head, silent, before leaning down to meet his gaze, nose-to-nose.

"Nothing._ Jus'_ thinking that_ ye_ looked silly trying to run away when I had _yer_ ankle." He glared at her, sticking his tongue out playfully. It brushed against her lips, and she blushed, glancing at his mouth.

"Very funny." He replied, searching her gaze.

Slowly, she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. When she pulled away, she searched his eyes, and then leaned closer for another kiss before pulling back. But this time it was Asher that closed the gap, taking her lips in another soft, barely-there kiss. He nudged his nose against hers, kissing her slowly. She let her lips part slightly, and after a moment, Asher gently brushed his tongue against her lower lip. Tentative, Asher brushed his tongue against hers, before retreating; Devin reciprocated after a slight hesitation. Eventually, they had a small game of tag taking place, that only ended when Asher pulled away slightly and took a breath. He rested his forehead to hers, eyes open.

"Hi." She whispered, embarrassed. He blushed, whispering,

"Sh... _shalom_." A giggle escaped her throat, and slowly, she caught his lips, brushing her tongue against his before retreating. He followed, skimming his tongue along the inside edge of hers nervously. Their hands slowly laced together, and after a moment, Devin broke the kiss, catching her breath as she let him sit up.

"Sorry." He shrugged, meeting her gaze. She moved closer, resting her forehead to his. He nudged his nose against hers, taking a deep breath to try to calm his heart. "_Ye_ sure_ yer_ okay with this?" He nodded, grinning.

"It's just... kissing, right?" Devin stopped, considering it for a moment. Then, she nodded in agreement.

"_Aye, 'tis jus'_ kissing." And slowly, carefully, they returned to the activity, before finally deciding that they'd had enough. They sat together for several minutes, sharing soft, fleeting kisses.

* * *

"How are things over here?" Ziva handed what appeared to be the back of chair to Enya before wiping the perspiration off her forehead and looking around before turning her gaze to her husband. They'd been at this for four hours; four hours of digging through rubble and wreckage, breathing in sulfur and chemicals, moving aside broken and almost caramelized glass and appliances, tire rinds, charred wood, and broken furniture in the hopes of finding a body- hell, even a hand, an ear, _something_\- to give the relatives of those that died a chance at peace. Cadaver dogs had been brought in, and occasionally, the excited bark of one would send volunteers and emergency workers alike scrambling over debris and ash to help.

"We should have brought Jet." She replied, uncapping her water bottle and taking a sip. "How are things on your end?" Tim glanced behind him; the sight reminded him of nine- eleven, and the workers who'd spent months digging through human ash and tangled, twisted debris to find bodies trapped beneath. It made him sick. The only comfort though, was that when the towers fell, there hadn't been children trapped within, and yet-

Here, all they found were children. The bodies of their children's friends.

"Exhausting. The Teagans, the Brynes, and the Ó'Bradáins, Mr. and Mrs. Ahearne... they're all gone. We're lucky to be pulling out bodies." Ziva nodded.

"Elizabeth O'Shea lived alone; lost her husband in the Second War. Son died in the Troubles up north; _Domhnach na Fola_\- Bloody Sunday." His wife turned to him, confusion in her eyes.

"The massacre of unarmed civilians by soldiers of the British Army in Bogside, north of Derry." Tim clarified. Ziva nodded, but before she could say anything, one of the EMTs rushed up, out of breath, with tears running down his cheeks. Ziva recognized him; he was a good friend of-

"_'Twas_ Beaumont Hospital..." He struggled to catch his breath, and Ziva handed him her water bottle. He took it with a grateful smile in her direction. "Julietta Gallagher_ jus'_ died of her injuries."


	36. Chapter 36

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to silvermoon217 for reviewing 30 and 32, Guest for reviewing 32; and Reader for reviewing 30, 31, 32, 33, 34 and 35.**

The walk home was silent. She held tight to his hand, lost in her thoughts.

Dead. Julietta was dead.

She swallowed; Julietta had been the first to welcome her and Tim to Clontarf, they'd gotten to be good friends, and the two young mothers had often watched their children tease each other over coffee or tea. She was Ziva's age, and had grown up around the Troubles in her hometown of Belfast; she'd lost her oldest sisters- twins-to the sixty-nine riots. She'd been a baby when a neighbor died in the eighty-one hunger strike, and had grown up amid peace talks and anti-terrorism treaties. And Julietta had been determined not to raise her in the violence she had faced, and she had tried- losing her life in the process.

Taking a deep breath, Ziva stopped, yanking Tim's hand when he didn't notice. He turned back to her, confused. "What is it, Zi?" She swallowed, meeting his gaze.

"We have to set boundaries. For the kids. We can't leave them alone all the time it isn't healthy and it isn't right. They may be preteens, they may be teenagers, it doesn't matter what they are, but we have to set boundaries. Kissing and... and hand holding is... is fine... but... but no being alone in their bedrooms together, no sneaking out at night- bombing or no bombing... I am not going to let our children turn out like us, Tim. They're smarter than that, they know better, they've learned from our mistakes... We either need to be here all the time, or have them with us, or-" She stopped, taking a breath.

"Zi, slow down." He took her face in his hands. "I know this has more to do than just the stunt Zipporah pulled. What's wrong, baby?" She took a shaky breath, looking up at him.

_"Julietta was my age, Tim. She lived through violence like I did, she left a daughter alone... that could have been me... if those cars had parked on our half of the block instead of hers..."_ She choked on a sob, pressing her cheek into his hand. He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her curls. A moment passed, before he pulled away, meeting her gaze.

"But it didn't. Okay, Ziva? I didn't happen to us. We were lucky-"

"This time, Tim. But how long before it's the remains of our house they're digging through? Or our bodies their pulling out of the rubble?" He took her head in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Ziva, listen to me. When I married you, I made a promise that I'd protect you and our children no matter what, and I'm going to keep it. Nothing is going to happen to us-"

"You don't know that! One of us could step on a tripwire and cause the house to explode, or... or we could walk into the store and it could blow up-"

"And it may happen, but _not right now_. Okay? We focus on right now, and on our family, and on surviving. Understand?" She nodded. They returned home in silence, but Tim stopped her as she unlocked the door. "How do we tell her?"

Ziva turned to look at her husband. She studied him for a moment, before reaching up and caressing his cheek. "We don't tell her, Tim. _I_ will tell her." He opened his mouth, but she laid a finger against his lips, shaking her head. "I know you want to help, baby, but please, let me tell her. It is going to be hard enough hearing that her mother's died, let the news come a little easier from someone who has been in her pants."

"Shoes, Zi." He corrected gently. She gave him a small smile.

"Shoes." She amended, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She pushed the door open and the two slowly stepped inside; Asher and Zipporah were sitting on the sofa, Skyping with Tali, and Liron and Keavy were sitting at the kitchen table, looking through Tim's scrapbook of articles. Devin and Liam were talking and giving Jethro much enjoyed attention. All silence stopped when they stepped into the house, and Keavy looked up, meeting Ziva's gaze. As the door shut softly behind them, Ziva shook her head. The girl rushed to her, skidding to a stop inches from her. "I'm sorry, Keavy." Ziva whispered; the girl shook her head, tears filling her eyes and she choked on a sob.

_"No. No!"_ Ziva caught the child as her knees gave out and she crumpled; sobbing, the girl wrapped her arms tight around Ziva's waist, holding tight to the older woman. She sat on the floor, Keavy sobbing into her shirt, and gently, she stroked her fingers through the blonde curls, and rested her cheek against the girl's head.

"'I'm so sorry, Keavy. So, so sorry."

"Asher? Zipporah?" But they ignored their aunt, going to their mother. After a moment, Tim went to the sofa, taking a seat. "Tim, what's going on? Please." He swallowed, shaking his head.

"I can't, Tali. Just trust that Ziva and I are doing the right thing." She sighed and nodded. "How's Sarah? Getting ready to be a mommy?" Tali nodded, silent.

"She keeps asking for you, Tim. She wants to know when you're going to get here. She knows about the airports and she's worried. We all are."

"She needs to get ready for the birth, Tali, not worrying about us. She has enough on her plate, the baby will be here soon."

"I know, Tim, and I've told her. She doesn't care. She wants you here, in time to meet your niece; here, so you're safe, Tim, we all want you here, we all need you here. We need to know that you're safe-"

"We are safe, Tali. I promise you, we are-"

"That's not what we hear on the news, Tim! Bombings, murders, kidnappings! It sounds like Israel! Tim, please, come home. Your family needs, you- your sister needs you!"

"We are home-"

"What do I tell Sarah, Tim?" He sighed.

"Tell her... tell her that we're safe. That we're all okay, and that we're sorry we can't be there for the birth. Tell her that we're thinking of her, and that she'll be a wonderful mother." He thought a moment, licking his lips. "Tell her we love her, that I love her. And that I'm proud of her." His sister-in-law nodded, understanding that Tim had no choice. He had to stay- with no way out of Ireland, they had no choice, otherwise they'd be in the States with them.

"I will. Tell Zivaleh I'm expecting her to call me tonight. I love you." When he hung up, he turned back to his wife. She met his gaze, tears in her eyes.


	37. Chapter 37

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"I lost my mother, in an explosion." Keavy looked up as Ziva set a cup of tea in front of her before taking a seat beside her at the table.

"What happened?" She took a deep breath, wrapping her hands around the mug.

"It was a Hamas suicide bombing. A month before Asher turned seven._ Ima_ had taken my little sister Tali, up to Amman for the day- it's a city in Israel- and... and a suicide bomber stepped out onto the street, in front of the café they were in, and..." She swallowed. "I thought my sister had died too, but she... she had been taken to America and... and was recovering from her injuries. For years, I thought I'd lost my entire family... and then... and then I found Tali... but... but finding her... it didn't take away from the pain of losing my mother; and no matter how many years pass, it never goes away. All we can do is push through it, and move on and live as they would want us to."

Keavy sniffled, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "_'Tis_ not fair, Mrs. McGee-" Gently, Ziva reached out and brushed the girl's bangs off her forehead.

"I know. And I still blame God for taking my mother, and that... that will never change." She licked her lips, taking the girl's hand in hers and squeezing gently. She shouldn't even consider it, but she knew when Rivka died, it had been the only thing that brought comfort to her son, so she had to try. "Your mother was a wonderful woman, Keavy. She had a... a heart of gold." She took a deep breath.

"She did lots of good here, but... but there was someone who wanted her, so she could do all the good things she'd done here, with them. They... they took her to... to this new home, and... and she's not hurting anymore, and she's healthy, like she was when she was here, and she's with your baby brother, and... and she's watching over you." She reached up, brushing the tears away. "This new home wanted her very badly, and so they took her. But I know she's watching over you, as your guardian angel." A moment passed, before Keavy leaned into Ziva's side, holding tight to her, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.

The siblings sat on the stairs, listening. They remembered the conversation Tim and Ziva had had with them after Mr. Grandpa Gibbs died, and all three wished Keavy hadn't had to hear it, even if it did bring comfort.

* * *

"_Abba_?" Tim and Ziva looked up; the two were sitting in bed, engaged in soft conversation. The kids stood in the doorway, after a moment, Asher went to the bed and curled into his mother's side. Zipporah and Liron joined them, and Devin, Liam and Keavy shared nervous glances. Ziva gave them all a soft smile.

"Come here." They all settled on the end of the bed, silent. Slowly, she reached out, taking the younger girl's hand. "You okay, Keavy?" The child nodded, sniffling. Tim glanced down at his daughter, curled into his side.

"We wanted to talk to you- to all of you."

"About what,_ Abba_?" Liron asked.

"Boundaries." Ziva replied. The kids shared glances, silent. "In regards to your..." She stopped. "whatever you are all in. I know we may seem stiff and boring, but it's for your own protection." She took a deep breath, glancing down at Asher. "You cannot... you cannot be alone together in... any of your rooms, I'm sorry, but..."

"Because of me." Asher whispered. "You are thinking of me... and..." Ziva met her son's eyes, nodding.

"You are the best thing to happen to me, my angel, but..." She pressed a kiss to his head. "it is always in the back of my mind." Asher glanced at the others.

"It's okay, _Ima_. We understand. We won't be alone upstairs. Ever." She nodded, swallowing.

"The..." Her gaze locked with Tim's, and she bit her lip.

_"Come on!" She tugged on his hand, yanking him down the street back towards her family's apartment, giggling. The skirt of her green halter dress swirling around her legs. They stumbled down the street in the dark, sticking to the shadows. Eventually, her back hit the coldness of a building's brick wall, and she felt chills race up her spine. She tilted her head back, looking up at him with a grin. "Your eyes are really green. I have never seen eyes like yours."_

_He blushed and then leaned down, pressing a kiss behind her ear, the adrenaline rush from escaping the dinner making him bolder than he normally would be. One hand slid around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned her head back, allowing him to access the graceful slope of her neck, her eyes sliding shut. He looked so handsome in that nice suit, that all she wanted to do was make love to him then and there. She giggled as he nipped softly at her neck and gently pushed him away to look into his eyes. "Do not bite, Tim! Or I will bite back." She purred, grinning at him. He pulled her close, his silky lips brushing against her ear as he whispered,_

_"That a promise?" She met his gaze, grinning._

She jumped as Liron tugged at her hand. "_Ima?"_ A small smile slipped across her face, and she gently ran her fingers through her youngest son's hair.

"As wonderful as our lives have turned out, we do not want any of you to follow in our footsteps. So you are not to be up here in your rooms alone together. Are we clear? You may kiss, you may hold hands, you may cuddle and talk together, but we will not allow you to be alone together."

"What... what if we're in a group, Mrs. McGee?" Liam asked, glancing at Zipporah. "Like the... the six of us_ t'gether_?" Tim took his wife's hand. She took a deep breath.

"That would be fine, but you are to stay downstairs, and you are_ not_ to come up here together, understand?" The kids all nodded; they understood that none of them were allowed to be alone together, like Asher and Devin had been the earlier, and they honestly, didn't mind the rules Tim and Ziva had set up. If anything, it forced them all to take whatever this was slower, get to know each other better. "And... and none of you are to be outside at night. It is too dangerous." She met Zipporah's gaze, and the girl nodded.


	38. Chapter 38

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

No one was really in the mood for dressing up in costumes and going about asking for candy on Halloween. With bombings, shootings and riots galore, Tim and Ziva chose to keep their children home, which was just fine with the three. After sending the trio to bed, Tim and Ziva settled on the sofa, a movie on to take their minds off the chaos they lived in; it was strange, that something as simple as a movie on TV could seem so normal to them at this point, but it was the best they could do without losing their minds. Tim pressed a kiss to his wife's head, playing with her fingers. "Sarah's baby should be here..." He brought her fingers to his lips. "I hope she's as beautiful as her mother," Ziva looked up at him, gently reaching up to brush her fingers against his cheek. "and that she never has to grow up like her cousins."

Gently, Ziva cradled his cheek. "She will have her mother's beauty and her uncle's loving heart."

At that moment, an explosion shook the house, and Asher and his siblings rushed downstairs; he threw his arms around Ziva and burrowed into her, shaking. She wrapped her arms around her oldest son, holding the boy close. "Shh, my angel, it's okay. We will be okay." Zipporah and Liron curled up on the sofa by their father, huddling into his embrace, just as frightened as their older brother. Tim pressed a kiss to each of his children's foreheads, holding them close as another explosion shook the house. After a moment, he turned the movie off and got up.

"Come on, let's go upstairs." He turned back to Jethro, who lay on the floor. "Come on, Jet, good boy!" The dog barked and rushed after his owners and their pups. Once in the bedroom, he climbed onto the bed, huddling with his humans. Zipporah pressed a kiss to the German Shepard's head, holding tight to him. He licked her face, trying to give as much comfort as he could.

* * *

"Your aunt and uncle were supposed to be here to meet you when you finally decide to arrive." She sniffled, gently caressing her belly. "But they can't get out of Ireland... there are bad things happening there, very bad things, but you must know that Uncle Tim and Aunt Ziva love you so very, very much. Do not ever think they don't. And they will be ecstatic when they finally get to meet you-"

She looked up, to find Damon watching her from his spot against the bedroom door jam. "I know, it's silly, but... but she _needs to know_, Damon. She_ needs to know how much Tim and Ziva love her,_ and _how important she is to them_, and that she is going to be one of the_ most important people in the world to them_, and that they will always- _always- have her back_." She choked on a sob and Damon went to her, holding her against him. She broke down, shoulders shaking._ "I want them here, Damon! They're supposed to be here to meet her after she's born! They promised!"_

Damon pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her close. "I know, Sarah. I know, sweetheart. I want them here too."

* * *

She sighed; hands against her back. When she and Damon had talked about the birth, Sarah had told him that she'd always wanted a home birth, with her brother and sister-in-law there to support her. But thanks to Ireland and its decision to go absolutely asshat crazy during her pregnancy, her baby was going to come into this world without her aunt and uncle there to support her mother and welcome her into the world.

A moment passed, before she head into the bathroom to brush her teeth before bed. Her back was killing her, and she'd had slight pain running circles around her abdomen for the last several days; she'd laid down and slept on and off, but the pain hadn't faded, and Damon was getting worried. Honestly, Sarah really couldn't care less. She sighed, starting to brush, but she couldn't concentrate. Her mind kept going back to the fact that her brother and sister-in-law were stuck in Ireland-

She stopped, mid-brushing. She thought she'd heard a... a popping sound... Sarah shook her head, returning to brushing her teeth. It had all been in her mind-

And then she felt a gush of something come from between her thighs and run down her legs. She set the toothbrush down, leaning against the counter and taking a deep breath. "Oh..." She whimpered. "Oh, God... not now, sweetheart, _please..."_ Her teeth slid into her bottom lip as what she know realized was a contraction gripped her, digging its painful nails into her abdomen and squeezing. A scream escaped her lips, and she grasped the counter so hard her knuckles turned white. "Damon! Damon!"

He rushed into the bathroom, stopping at the sight of his wife leaning against the counter. "Sarah, sweetie, what's wrong?" She looked up at him, swallowing thickly.

"Call Tali, Damon. _Now!"_ He furrowed a brow, his gaze going from the water that had drenched her legs and thighs, not connecting the panic in her voice with the water on her legs. "Damon,_ are you brain-dead? My water broke! I'm in labor!"_ That seemed to get him moving again, and he helped her out of the bathroom and back towards the bed. When she was seated on the edge of the bed, Damon rushed off to call Tali. She took a deep breath, pushing her tank top up and gently caressing her belly. She'd read somewhere that rubbing her belly during contractions could help easy labor pains.

"Sarah?" She looked up, whimpering. Damon rushed to kneel in front of her. "Tali will be here soon. She said to make you as comfortable and relaxed as possible. Um... dim the lights, make sure you're comfortable..." Sarah reached over, covering his mouth.

"I got it, Damon." She choked out.

* * *

"Sarah?" The laboring young woman looked up as Tali rushed towards her. "Hey sweetie, how're you doing?" Sarah took a deep breath, giving her a weak smile. "Shall we see how everything's going, okay?" The younger woman nodded as Tali pulled on a pair of gloves and quickly checked her. "Um, Sarah, honey, you aren't going to be in labor much longer."

"What do you mean?" Tali bit her lip.

"The baby's crowning. She's gonna be here real soon." Sarah shook her head as Damon took her hand and held her close.

"No... no, Tali, I'm not ready! Timmy and Ziva aren't here! They promised they would be here!" Tali met her gaze.

"Sarah, Sarah _look_ at me." After a moment, the girl did as told. "I know you wanted your brother here. I know how important it was for Tim and Ziva to be here, but they can't. They can't get out of Ireland. You have no choice, this baby isn't going to wait anymore."

Sarah choked on a sob. "I want my brother!"

Taking a deep breath, Tali removed her gloves and stood, taking the younger woman's face in her hands. "Sarah, listen to me. I know they promised they would try to be here for the birth of your baby, but there are forces beyond _anyone's control_ that have prevented them from being here. But they are both_ so_ proud of you, and they cannot wait to meet your baby girl. You have no choice, okay, sweetie?" Slowly, Sarah nodded. Tali pressed a firm kiss to the woman's head. She put on a new pair of gloves and returned to check on her. "Okay, Sarah, her head's out. Let me just remove the chord from around her neck, and then I want you to push, okay?"

Sarah nodded, taking Damon's hands. He pressed a kiss to her head, holding her close. Seconds passed before Tali told her to push, and she did as told, letting her body take control. An hour into pushing, Sarah heard her daughter's healthy cry.


	39. Chapter 39

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Tim turned on Skype, not expecting Tali to be the one to respond. The younger David sister grinned, her nose wrinkling as she chuckled softly. "Hey Uncle Timmy!" His green eyes widened in shock at seeing his sister-in-law at his sister's apartment.

"Tali? What... what are you doing there? Where's Sarah?" Ziva looked up from making coffee and joined her husband and children at the kitchen table.

"_Abba_?" Tim glanced at his children before turning back to his sister-in-law.

"She's nursing right now, but I'm sure she'd love to see you." And without a word, Tali picked up the laptop, heading back to the bedroom. His wife rested a hand on the back of his chair, her other hand coming to rest on her hip as she watched. Her brow furrowed, confused.

"Tim, what's going on?" He shrugged, meeting his wife's eyes. The kids sat at the table, listening in silence and hearing nothing. They shared glances, curious about what was happening, but not knowing how to ask.

"I have no-"

Tali's voice interrupted their soft conversation. She gently pushed the door open, holding the camera towards her Star of David. "Sarah? Hey sweetie, you up for some company? Because I have a surprise for you."

"What is it, Tali?" Tim and Ziva watched as Tali took a seat on the bed and turned the laptop so the camera was facing the occupants.

"There are a couple people here who want to say hello." His jaw dropped in shock as he laid eyes on his baby sister, cradling a nursing newborn. Sarah choked on a sob, sitting up and gently removing the nursing infant from her breast, eyes filling with fresh tears.

"_Timmy? Ziva_?" Both nodded, too surprised to say anything. Ziva was the first to recover from the shock, however. The younger McGee could hear her niece and nephews in the background, followed by the sounds of chairs scraping across the floor and soon, three more faces appeared on the screen.

"Sarah, oh sweetie, you had the baby." Ziva whispered, covering her mouth in surprise. Sarah nodded, unable to take her eyes off her older brother. He looked worn out, exhausted, as if he'd been working late nights, and pale. In fact, they all looked exhausted beyond reason, and it worried her. "Oh honey, _Mazel Tov_."

"Thanks." Sarah breathed, not fully sure if she was really seeing her brother. "Timmy, you look exhausted." That seemed to snap him out of his surprise.

"And you look like Hell." He replied playfully, a grin tugging at his lips. She glared at him, but couldn't fight the smile that soon flitted across her face.

"I_ did_ just have a baby, Timmy." She took a deep breath. "It's so good to see all of you. Oh Asher... Liron... Zipporah, you're all getting so big!"

"Hi Sarah_ Doda_!" The boys replied, but Zipporah jumped right into the fray.

"What's her name, Sarah_ Doda_?" Zipporah asked, eager to meet her new cousin.

_"Zipporah!"_ Four voices scolded the girl gently and she looked around, embarrassed. Sarah laughed, glancing down at the baby in her arms, staring into her beautiful blue eyes. Gently, she reached out, brushing her finger against her daughter's cheek, and in a soft voice, she whispered,

"Maura. Maura Tikva Werth. It means 'great hope.'" She looked up at her family, waiting for their reactions. Ziva thought a moment.

"Maura is Irish and Tikva is Hebrew." Sarah nodded.

"I know, Ziva. I... I remember how you told me that your mother said that you had to make sure Asher had a strong name, because it would be the only thing he would have in this world after you were gone, and... so I figured... a name from my and Damon's heritage and a name from yours. You're one of the strongest women I know, Ziva, and I wanted to find a way to thank you."

"For what?"

"For loving my big brother and..." She shrugged, watching as Ziva wrapped her arms loosely around her husband's neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. They talked for several minutes, before Ziva returned to her work and the kids went into the living room with Jethro, all wishing their aunt and uncle congratulations. Tim glanced at his wife; Ziva was busy with the dishes, but was listening intently. Tim sighed. "Timmy?" He turned back to his sister. "Are you proud of me?" He gave her a small smile.

"I'm _so proud_ of you, Sarah. So very proud." He thought a minute. "How much did she weigh?" She met her brother's eyes.

"Six pounds, nine ounces."

Tim chuckled softly. "She's already one-upping her cousins, or Asher at least." Sarah laughed, and Tim relaxed, enjoying the sound of his sister's laughter. The mood suddenly turned serious.

"Are you safe, Timmy?" He licked his lips, thinking. A moment passed, before he nodded.

"Yeah, Sarah, we're safe."

"Are you sure?_ Because I want Maura to grow up knowing her aunt and uncle and knowing her cousins and visiting you and having you come down and visit and if-"_

"Sarah!" Tim's voice was firm, and she sniffled, catching her breath. "We're fine, I promise. Zi and I, we're working from home because it's too dangerous to go into Dublin- or anywhere for that matter- and the kids are all in relationships-"

_"We're not in relationships, and we aren't dating, Abba!"_ Sarah laughed at the collective response. Tim rolled his eyes.

"They aren't dating, and none of them are in relationships, sorry. Needed that clarified." He watched his sister, thinking. "I remember when you were born and... now you're a mother." Sarah gave her brother a soft smile, thinking.

"I miss you, Timmy."

"I miss you too, Sar." She sniffled. A moment passed, before she glanced down at her daughter. "She's beautiful, Sarah." His sister nodded, before meeting his gaze. "I'm so proud of you. And I love you."


	40. Chapter 40

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to silvermoon217 for reviewing 37; and Reader for reviewing 36, 37, 38 and 39.**

Asher was sitting on the floor, back against the sofa, trapped in the next chapter of Morgan Llywelyn's _Nineteen-sixteen_. He didn't look up as someone entered the living room, until they took a seat beside him and held something out. He slowly lowered his book. Devin sat beside him, cookie in her mouth, mid-bite, and holding another one out to him. He smiled softly, accepting the cookie. _"Toda."_ She grinned, watching as he returned to his book.

Zipporah and Liam were helping Ziva with her baking and her preserving, and Keavy was sitting at the kitchen table, reading. Tim was out with their neighbors, cleaning up the last of the debris from down the street. He'd told Ziva to say home with the kids- not only so they wouldn't be alone, but also so she herself could get some rest. Asher was trying hard not to worry about his father, but it wasn't easy. Devin glanced at Jethro, who lay on the chair, sound asleep. "What are_ ye_ reading?" He showed her the cover. "_'Tis_ a good series." He nodded, returning to his book. She laid her head on his shoulder, thinking. A moment passed, before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He jumped, turning to her.

"What was that for?" She shrugged, giggling. He returned to his book, and she kissed him again. "Hey!" She reached for his book, taking it away from him. "_What are you doing? Devin!"_ But instead of saying anything, she shifted, settling between his legs. Then, she opened the book, grinning at him. He rolled his eyes. Ziva poked her head into the living room, and studied the two for several minutes, but all they were doing was sitting together, reading, fingers laced together. After a moment, she returned to the kitchen.

"Mrs. McGee?" Ziva turned to Keavy, who had marked her place in her book and closed it. She waited, watching as the girl took a deep breath. "Um... they... _Da_ decided that... that he wants _t'_ have _Eamon_ and _Ma_'s funerals on Friday- with the rest of the victims. Would... would_ ye_ come? Please?" She went to the child, kneeling beside the girl's chair and reaching up to brush a tear off her cheek.

"Of course we'll be there, Keavy."

* * *

Sarah gently laid Maura in Abby's arms. The forensic gave the young mother a small smile, which Sarah returned before she turned her attention to the baby in her arms. Ducky had invited everyone over for dinner- the team, Sarah and Damon, Tali, Michael and the kids, Penny, Fornell, Vance and his family, and even Bishop had managed to talk her husband into coming- and they were now gathered in the living room, chatting over coffee, the news on.

"How are they, Sarah?" She looked up, meeting Bishop's gaze.

"Who?" She asked, trying to feign dumb, even as her gaze drifted to the television, and the footage being shown live. A funeral, from the looks of it. What was the caption at the bottom of the screen?

_Funerals for the Victims of the Clontarf Village Bombings._

Clontarf, where her older brother and his family lived. But Timmy had said he and Ziva and their kids were fine. She'd seen them a six weeks earlier; she and Timmy had Skyped for an hour, catching up as much as they could.

"Sarah?" She turned back to find everyone watching her, waiting.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"Timothy and Ziva, dear, how are they doing?" Ducky asked, taking a seat beside Penny. She bit her lip, catching Penny's gaze; they'd promised Tim and Ziva that they wouldn't tell the others where they were, that only their immediate family knew, for Tim and Ziva's own safety, and while they'd kept their promise, it had been hard, heartbreaking even, that both sisters had no one to turn to but each other to share their fears with. A moment passed, before she tried to catch Tali's eye, but the other woman was watching the TV, her dark eyes glued to the screen.

"Tali? Tali, _what_ are you-" She and everyone else followed Tali's gaze to the screen before them, unsure of what they were seeing.

* * *

The funeral was small, despite the fact that funerals for all killed in the attack were being held at once; only close friends, family of Julietta Gallagher- mainly those in their neighborhood- were there, whether all their lives or only a few short months or years, and all had been close to her, turning to her for guidance or building a friendship with her. Keavy held tight to her father's hand, tears in her eyes, her long blonde curls held back from her face with barrettes, and the black dress she wore was simple, save for the emerald and silver claddagh ring pendant that had belonged to her mother around her neck, the ring- the pendant's companion- on her finger. At the beginning of the funeral, Ziva looked up, feeling Keavy's small hand slip into hers. She met the girl's eyes, and gently squeezed in response.

The famous Irish fog rolled in, creating a barrier between the outside world and the Clontarf Cemetery. They ignored the TV cameras, there to document the mass funerals of all killed in the Clontarf village bombings. Those gathered for Julietta's funeral focused only on the woman taken from them too soon. At one point, Liron took Keavy's hand and squeezed, and she gave him a small, sad smile, choking on a sob.

The primarily Catholic service was beautiful, and as the priest made the sign of the Cross over Julietta's grave with Holy Water, no one noticed the car pull up at the edge of the cemetery, or the men walking towards the small funeral party, as it- and the others- all continued to go on. Before anyone could think to move or say something, gunfire and explosions shattered the calm.

* * *

Explosions filled the screen as the cameras panned to the other funerals, and those in Ducky's living room all watched in horror as people began to scatter; even with the TV's volume on medium, the screams and the sound of gunfire were loud and clear, as if right beside them.

_"... and shots have just been fired into the funerals..."_ The camera panned to a young girl, her long blond curls held back from her face, and a beautiful pendant around her neck, as she rushed towards one of the men.

_"Me Ma dinna do anythin' t' ye! Leave us alone!"_ A man- most likely her father- rushed over and picked her up, taking her away from the man, just as gunfire ripped through the air. An explosion shook the ground, and several of the reporters and cameramen scrambled to help; one camera fell, shooting from the ground. Eventually, another explosion went off, sending funeral mourners and news crew alike fleeing.

"Oh dear God." Ducky's soft declaration broke the quiet, but no one removed their gaze from the TV.

"How could someone do something so evil, Doctor, and at a funeral?" Jimmy asked, as Breena buried her face in his shoulder before turning back; she, like everyone else, was unable to look away.

"There is great, great evil in this world, Mr. Palmer. That such a young generation is to be shaped around it-"

As the smoke cleared and things began to calm down and people were taken from the cemetery. The camera on the ground remained where it was, even as paramedics and police came to arrest the men who'd been captured and nearly beaten to death by some of the family members of the bombing victims. At one point, someone scrambled towards the camera, rushing away, hand over their side, blood seeping over their skin. The person collapsed in front of the camera; a young girl rushed to the person, trying vainly to stop the bleeding; a young girl- probably in her late childhood or early teenage years, that was obviously accustomed to the violence by now, everyone realized. She was screaming for help, sobbing as she shook the man's shoulder- most likely her father, refusing to be removed from him even as paramedics came to take care of the man and remove him to the hospital.

Sarah tried vainly to stifle her scream, as she realized who the man was, who the girl was. She covered her mouth with her hands, rocking back and forth as tears began to stream from her eyes. Tali was in front of her in minutes, trying to calm the young mother down.

"Sarah, what's wrong? _Talk to me_, Sarit. _Sarah_!" Not looking away, the youngest McGee sibling choked, finally spilling the beans after a nearly two-year promise to those she loved. They would have realized eventually who the man was, who the child was- though none of them would recognize her now.

_"That's my brother, Tali!"_ Sarah sobbed._ "Oh, my God, Timmy!"_


	41. Chapter 41

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: The secret's out...**

_"What do you mean that's McGee?" _

_"How could you not tell us they were in Ireland all this time?" _

_"You've been holding out on us, Sarah!"_

It was Ducky's voice that broke the bombardment of questions coming from the others. "Silence, all of you! Now if Sarah was to keep a secret, I am sure she had a very good reason for doing so! But please, you must let the young woman talk!" Instantly, everyone shut up, turning to Sarah, who glanced from Tali to Penny and back.

"Actually, Sarah isn't the only one who knows. Michael and I know too, and so does Penny." Tali said, standing.

Abby handed Maura back to her mother, standing. "Wait, you mean to tell us that when Timmy and Ziva disappeared, that they really moved to Ireland? They just up and left us without telling anyone but you where they were going?_ That they abandoned us, like cowards!_ We couldn't say their names for _months_ after- it was like they were dead, when this entire time, you all knew where they were and how to get in contact with them, and you kept it from us!"

"Um, Abby-" But Bishop stopped as the former Goth glared at her.

Tali took a deep breath, enraged that the forensic would call her sister and brother-in-law cowards. She balled her hands into fists, and kept them at her sides, when all she really wanted to do was take the coffee cup on the table and ram it down her throat. "I'm sorry that we _didn't_ tell _any_ of you, but... but Tim and Ziva_ begged_ us not to. They _didn't want_ the ties to their past, they wanted to start fresh, and they _did_. They..."

She laughed drily, brushing her curls off her face as she looked around at all of them. Sarah got up and gently laid the baby in a Moses basket, near the fireplace, gently pushing it with her foot before returning to the sofa to sit next to Michael, so that the baby would be rocked to sleep with the warmth of the fire and stay asleep during what would be an obviously heated argument. She turned to Gibbs, the only member of the original team to keep quiet.

"They work _regular jobs_, with_ regular hours_ and very good pay and are_ always_ there for their kids." Tali bit her lip. "They live in this little fishing village on the Irish coast, and... and Asher is on the school Curling team and Liron and Zipporah do Irish dance, and they're _happy_. _They're happy_, Agent Gibbs. They don't need badges and special titles to be happy, they have their kids and each other-"

Slowly, Tali turned back to the news, watching as fresh reports on the Cemetery attack came on.

_"... police think the men were members of a radical group opposed to the Republic of Ireland breaking away from British rule, called, ARBI, the Army of the Republic for British Ireland. It is unclear the number of dead and wounded in the bombings, but police are calling this a massacre, and are equating it to the Milltown Cemetery Massacre that took place in Northern Ireland in 'eighty-eight. It is also unclear if the men were aiming for families of the victims or those that are suspected of favoring a break from British rule..."_

Tali took a deep, shaky breath as footage from the attack once again played before them. Men and women fled or ducked down among the stones for cover, at one point, she thought she saw Ziva flee, her sister's long dark curls pulled back in that braided ponytail she loved to wear. And, even with an ocean and several thousand miles of continents separating them, she recognized Asher grabbing Liron and Zipporah and dragging them towards a cemetery plot to hide behind the stones. And then she saw- from another angle- the footage as Tim got shot, as he stumbled away from the chaos and collapsed, and then she saw Zipporah dart out from behind the tombstone and rush to her father's side, screaming.

She turned back to the team, looking at each of them. "They kept quiet-_ we_ kept quiet-" She pointed to each involved. "Because they wanted nothing to do with any of you! They love you all, but for them to start fresh, for them to think of their family and put their children first, they had to break all ties with NCIS," She turned to glare at Abby. "And yes, Sarah and Damon and Michael and Penny and I kept their secret, yes, we didn't tell any of you, yes, you can look at it as a betrayal, but we did it because they asked us to. They're our family, and they need us and we need them."

"They're_ our family_ too, Tali!" Abby snapped, standing. "And you kept them from us!" Tali lifted her chin, rising to her full five-foot-two frame, that didn't intimidate Abby's five-ten frame anyway, and narrowed her eyes.

"I did what they _asked_, Abby." She growled. "And believe me, both Sarah and I have been begging for them to come home, and they won't. They insist that their home is there, and it is, but that doesn't mean we don't want them here." The other woman turned to Vance, not wanting to hear anymore of what she deemed lies.

"You can do something, can't you, Director Vance? We... we can go over and... and bring them home, where they belong!"

"You can't, Abby." Tali replied. The woman turned back to her. "The airports were bombed by radicals."

"We'll take boats and we'll get them that way." Abby said, ignoring the other woman and turning back to Vance. He glanced at Ducky and his wife Jackie, silent. "Or... or they can go to Northern Ireland and we'll pick them up there!"

"They've set fire to the harbors and bombed the ships; no vessels are coming in or going out of the republic, Abby. And they can't cross over into Northern Ireland, because the border is being watched and people are being turned away."

"Northern Ireland suffered from the Troubles for decades, long before this." Penny said, speaking up for the first time.

"Yes, I believe the official dates for The Troubles of Northern Ireland were the late nineteen-sixties, but what most don't realize, is that the Troubles actually started much sooner than that- back in the late nineteen hundreds. Yes, I remember one time, growing up in Scotland, when-"

"Ducky, no offense, but can it!" Abby snapped. She turned back to Tali. "And you!" She strode over to the young Israeli, and, like she'd done to her sister before, years ago, she hauled off and slapped her hard. "You left them all there to die!" Tali started, surprised. And then she, much like her older sister, slapped Abby hard in retaliation. Tony and the others watched in shock as both Abby and Tali managed to get one more good slap in before Michael quickly broke it up. Turning back to Vance, Abby rushed to him. "Please, Director! We have to go get them! We can't just leave them there!"

"Abby-"

"For all we know, they could be dead! Or... or dying! Or... or God knows what else!"

_"Abby!"_ Everyone turned; finally, Gibbs had spoken up. Maura had started crying thanks to the raised voices, and he'd picked her up and gently rocked her, calming her crying before handing her to Sarah. He turned to the oldest of his "children"- the one who had changed the most since his two youngest had run off- and sighed. She was shaking, obviously angry, and betrayed; they all were. "I talked to them just after they left. They called me and explained why they chose to leave. They made this choice because it was what was best for their family. And they asked us to respect their decision. And we need to."

"But Gibbs-" He shook his head, taking her hand.

"We_ have_ to respect their wishes, Abby. We _have_ to. It's_ what_ they_ want_."


	42. Chapter 42

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Abba! Ima!"_ Asher looked around, but he couldn't see much for the smoke around them. A moment passed, before he took his brother's hand; the boys rushed from their hiding place, Zipporah had disappeared not long before, seeing someone and rushing towards them but they weren't sure where she was now or if she was okay. _"Abba!" _

_"Asher! Liron!"_ The boys looked back; Devin and Liam rushed towards them. Liam was holding his shoulder and Devin's dress was covered in blood; she had a gash across her forehead and a deep cut on her upper arm. "Where're Zip_ an'_ Keavy?" Liam asked, as Devin threw her arms around each brother in a hug. Asher shook his head.

"Zippi was with us... and then... she... she darted towards something but... but I couldn't see what..." Liron swallowed thickly, coughing on smoke. "And _Ima_ and _Abba_..."

"_They're gone_." Asher choked out, tears in his eyes. His nightmare... it was finally coming true. His parents and sister were missing, possibly dead, and the only reason his brother wasn't with them was because he'd grabbed Liron's hand and hadn't let go since. Liron turned to him.

_"They aren't gone! Not Abba and Ima! They were former federal agents! They can get out of anything!"_ But even as he said it, Liron was starting to doubt his words. This wasn't like the situation their parents had been in before. This was different.

"Liron? _Liron!"_ The boy looked up, seeing someone rush towards them. As she got closer, he suddenly realized who it was.

_"Keavy!"_ The girl launched herself at him, her small arms going tight around his neck. Sobs shook her small body, and he stumbled; Asher laid a hand on his back, steadying his balance. "Are you-"

_"Da's hurt! One of the men shot him! He... 'twas trying t' protect me, but... oh God..."_ Liron held tight to her, letting her cry. When she finally calmed down, he took her hand, and they rushed towards the screams of sirens in the distance.

* * *

All she knew was that she was at Beaumont Hospital in Dublin, standing outside the Trauma Ward. She didn't remember the ride in the ambulance, or entering the hospital even, she just remembered peeking around that gravestone and seeing Abba collapse. Liron had tried to grab onto her, but she'd been quicker, rushing towards their father, screaming for him. She glanced down; her hands were coated in her father's blood. She could still feel the fabric of his shirt as she'd tried to keep pressure on the wound. And then the paramedics had shown up and she'd been moved aside.

And now she was alone.

Zipporah crumpled to the floor, leaning back against the wall, arms around her knees. That nightmare she'd been having- that her brothers had also been having, that had started with Asher, back when he and Ima were still in Israel, and neither she nor Liron had been even thought of yet- was coming true, and it was scaring her.

She choked on a sob, burying her face in her knees. What if _Abba_ died? What if _Ima_ was dead too? And her brothers? What if they were caught by those men and killed, or worse, left to die? Or what if they disappeared? What would she do then? She could go live with Tali_ Doda_ in the States, or Sarah and Damon. She shook her head. And leave her family here? No, she'd rather die than go on without her parents and brothers. Letting out a sob, she hugged her knees tighter.

"No, you don't understand! I _need_ to find_ my husband! Timothy McGee! He... someone told me he was_ _here_..." Her head snapped up; a woman was pleading with an orderly at the other end the hall, but the man wasn't telling her anything. A moment passed as she blinked away the tears, before realizing who the woman was-"

"_Ima_?" She staggered to her feet as the woman stopped arguing and turned. _"Ima!" _Without a word, the woman left the man, rushing towards the child. Zipporah broke into a run, finally throwing her arms around her mother once she reached her. _"Ima!"_

Ziva held tight to her daughter, not fully believing that her baby girl was really here in her arms. Finally, she pulled away, kneeling down to be at her gaze, and it was then that she noticed the blood on her daughter's hand. "Oh, my baby... my songbird-"

"It's _Abba_'s." Zipporah choked out. "He was... hit; I... I... I tried,_ Ima, I really tried_... I.. I kept pressure and... and... and even after... paramedics... he... _Abba_'s in surgery... they won't... nobody came out... _Ima, what if Abba dies?_ What if... if brother's nightmare comes true?" Ziva pulled her child close, not caring about the blood on her dress, holding her baby girl against her chest.

"He won't die, my songbird, because your _Abba_'s strong. And he won't leave us, he won't allow himself to... he'll be okay. We... we just have to keep believing that..." She pressed a kiss to her daughter's head and then pulled away. "Where are your brothers?" Zipporah shook her head.

"I don't know... I left to help_ Abba_ and... they didn't come..." She broke down, holding tight to her mother. Ziva pressed a kiss to her baby girl's head, praying to God that she didn't lost all three of her boys.

* * *

Asher looked up; the waiting room was crowded, mainly with people who had come from the cemetery attacks. He glanced at Devin; she held tight to his hand. The gash on her arm had been cleaned and stitched up, Liam's shoulder had been relocated, and the break in Keavy's wrist- that she didn't even realize she had- had been set. Asher and Liron had a few minor cuts and scrapes, but neither cared; both checked every face, searching for their parents and their sister. "I... I don't see her, Asher. What if she got hurt? What if she's in the Trauma Ward? Or worse?" Asher shook his head.

"No. We... we have to find them. It can't come true, it... it just _can't_." The other three shared glances, unsure of what the brothers were talking about, but followed anyway, sticking close. They stopped and asked every doctor and nurse they saw, and were finally directed to the Trauma Ward, unaware that they'd missed Zipporah, dashing around in search of her siblings.


	43. Chapter 43

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: I normally don't do scenes like this, but for some reason, this chapter was begging to be written...**

_"It's not your time yet, son. You hear me? You got too much going on for you to up and leave it all. You've got a family, that exotic Ziva of yours and those three beautiful babies she's given you, they need their father. So don't you dare give up, you hear me? If my son taught you anything in the twelve years you worked for him, it better be that you don't leave your babies when they need you, and your children need you, Tim."_

He opened his eyes; the last thing he remembered was trying to stop one of the men from going after Keavy...

"Where am I?"

_"Some place you don't need to be yet."_ He turned his head at the familiar voice. It was one he hadn't heard in years. Jackson Gibbs sat beside him, hands on his cane, watching him. He smiled at the younger man, blue eyes sparking with sadness._ "It's good to see you again, Tim, but you aren't ready. You've got too much good to do in your life and in this world to settle in here."_

_"And I will personally Gibbs-slap you back into the living world if you try."_ His head snapped to the other side; Kate stared down at him, her dark eyes filled with warmth.

"Kate." She grinned as he breathed her name. His heartstrings tugged; he hadn't thought of Kate in years, but she was always in the back of his mind, watching over him, whispering softly in his ear the advice she always gave so kindly. "You're..."

_"I know. We all know. And we're meant to be here, Tim, but not you. It was our time, it's not yours." _

_"Besides, you have to make sure my sister doesn't crawl back in on herself. She relies on you, far more than Zivaleh's willing to admit."_ He sat up, turning to find Ari leaning against what appeared to be a desk. It was then that he recognized where he was. He was home- or, at least some manifestation of their home on Clontarf. Everything was exactly as it was at home. After a moment, he slowly got to his feet, and quickly checked the wound at his side. It was gone.

"Where am I?"

_"Exactly where you told the kids I came to."_ Jackson replied, standing. They let Tim wander about the house, before going to the kitchen. The backyard was deserted, but in the back of his mind, he could hear the laughter of his children._ "The place where you're healthy and able to do everything you used to do before. Except _you_ are not meant to be here. Not now. Not yet."_ Tim turned, meeting their gazes.

"My children, Ziva-" Ari spoke up, going to him.

_"Will be fine. They are all in the same hospital, looking for each other as we speak."_ Tim took a deep breath.

"I don't understand. If I'm not meant to be here, then why _am_ I?" He looked at each in turn, but they stayed silent.

_"Because you are at a very delicate place right now."_ He turned; a woman came down the stairs. He had only met her that one summer, had reveled in her kindness, and had, unfortunately, been torn away from her daughter by her own husband's rage, but he still recognized her. How could he _not_ recognize the woman his wife had told him about, the woman who'd taken his wife to Be'er Sheva when she was pregnant with his son, who'd raised her and protected her, and done all she could to protect her grandson from the violence his mother witnessed? She stopped in the kitchen, hands folded in front of her._ "Shalom, Timothy."_

"Rivka." She smiled at him, and he saw that brilliant, beautiful smile his wife had inherited and passed on down to their children. Her long dark hair was pulled back in an elegant braided ponytail- the same type of style his wife often wore to contain her unruly dark locks. Rivka's dark eyes drank him in, devouring everything she could about the man who'd given her daughter a precious gift, and had finally, after eight years, managed to take her beloved baby girl away from the violence of Israel.

_"You are not meant to be here for a very, very long time. You are meant to be there, with your wife, with my daughter, and the children you both created. You have graduations to attend, weddings to prepare, grandchildren to meet. You have a whole family missing and crying for you in America, that you need to make amends with." _

"Rivka... Zi and I left for a reason-"

_"I know. But they know the truth now, Tim. And they are worried. And when you are ready, I know you and Zivaleh will make the right choice."_ She went to him, taking his face in her hands. She searched his face, finding what she knew had been there from the moment he and Ziva had met. A soft smile spread over her features. _"Such beautiful eyes. My daughter dreamed that her baby would have your eyes, and she got her wish. And eight years later, her dream came true. You were always good for Ziva, always."_ Gently, she brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, chuckling softly. And suddenly, Tim understood. Rivka was truly beautiful, just as beautiful as her daughters, if not more. And he was so relieved his children had inherited her beauty.

"Rivka-"

_"Shh, I know, Tim. But you cannot leave my daughter alone to raise your children. Zivaleh would never recover if she lost you. She is deeply connected and dangerously passionate about those she cares about, even more so about those she deems hers. Were you to leave her today, I know for a fact my daughter would do everything in her power to follow. Her love is very strong, and very important to her."_ A moment passed, before she pressed a kiss to his forehead. _"You are doing good, my darling. I am honored to call you my son."_ She searched his green gaze, smiling._ "Tell Ziva that I am always with her."_ He nodded. _"Now go, you need to be with you babies-"_

Something was stroking against his forehead. He struggled not to leave, but Rivka pushed him forward, clearly telling him he had to go back._ "You need to protect my-"_

"Baby?" A voice broke through the fog, mixing with Rivka's. "Baby, wake up. Timothy, please. _I need you with me_." The voice seemed to choke on a sob, and his eyes slowly opened. _"I love you, baby."_ A moment passed, before he groaned softly, and very slowly turned to face the voice. Ziva stared at him, bruised and looking the worse for wear, but beautiful none the less. And out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Zipporah.

"_Abba_?" The child breathed, too afraid to speak, but Tim focused on his wife. Ziva choked on a sob, meeting his gaze. In a raspy voice, he choked out,

"_Ziva... baby_." His wife choked on a sob, throwing her arms around him, pressing her lips to his in a grateful kiss. Her tears dropped onto his cheeks, but the only thing he cared about was that his wife and daughter were here. Zipporah soon joined her mother, pressing kisses to her father's cheeks and forehead, tears slipping down her own cheeks.


	44. Chapter 44

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to puppypants for reviewing 41 and 43; mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 43; silvermoon217 for reviewing 41; and Reader for reviewing 40, 41, 42 and 43.**

"_Abba_!" Tim pushed himself up, groaning. "_Abba_, I was so scared!" Zipporah wrapped her arms around her father's neck, and gently, Tim rested a hand on her back.

"I'm okay, sweetheart, I'll be okay." He met his wife's gaze over their daughter's head. "Where are the boys?" Ziva shook her head.

"I don't know, Tim... I... I..." She stopped, hearing yelling in the hallway. Leaving Zipporah with her father, the Israeli beauty rushed out into the hall. Though it had been years since she'd worked a mission in Mossad, her training was still there and she listened, eyes narrowed. After a moment, she turned, heading down the hall towards the nurse's station.

"_Please!_ You _have to-"_

"I'm sorry, son, but there were hundreds _brough'_ in from the funeral attacks, and we do not _'ave_ enough people on call, or anyone extra on hand_ t'_ take you on a tour in hopes of finding_ yer _parents-"

"Asher? Liron?" The boy stopped arguing with the nurse and turned as Ziva stepped into his line of vision.

_"Ima?"_ She nodded, and the boy rushed towards her, his younger brother following_. "Ima!"_ Her sons' arms wrapping around her, holding tight as sobs shook their bodies. Slowly, Ziva knelt down, pulling away to look into her sons' eyes.

"Oh my babies... you're okay, you're both okay?" Asher nodded.

"Where's Zippi?" Liron asked, tears in his eyes. Ziva took a deep breath.

"She's with_ Abba_, my joy, and they'll both be okay."

"Excuse me," Ziva stood, turning to the nurse. Devin, Keavy and Liam stood huddled together, searching for their parents. "do these three belong to you as well?" Ziva glanced at the other three and then turned back to her sons. A moment passed before she nodded.

"Yes, they do." She held out a hand. Keavy rushed to her. "Come on, darlings."

* * *

"I was_ so_ scared I'd lost you." Tim closed his eyes, pressing his cheek into his wife's fingers as she gently stroked his skin. Ziva sat by his side; she'd sent the children down to the cafeteria, telling them that they needed to eat something, and hoping for a little time alone with her husband. Both Asher and Liron had refused to leave their parents, and Ziva had promised that whatever they got they could bring back to their father's room. That seemed to push them to go, and Asher held tight to his siblings' hands as they left, refusing to let them out of his sight.

"You almost... did." He breathed, slowly opening his eyes. She had scrapes, bruises and cuts to her face, she had a black eye, and the sleeve of the black jacket she wore over the simple black dress was torn, but even with all that, she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She gently brushed her fingers over his forehead, moving them through his hair as she took his hand, lacing their fingers. She squeezed his fingers gently, sniffling as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I could not live if you were taken from me, Tim." He took a deep breath, squeezing her other hand.

"I know..." He swallowed slowly, meeting her gaze. The sedatives they'd given him were trying their hardest, and he was fighting tooth and nail to stay awake even as Ziva's soothing stroking through his hair was siding with the meds. "Jackson... Jackson told me... I don't belong there..." Ziva furrowed her brow.

"Jackson?" He nodded, his eyes closing. They instantly snapped open again and she sighed internally. Her husband was stubborn- something she normally loved about him- but at this point, he needed the rest.

"And Kate... she's healthy... no... hard feelings between... her and Ari..." His wife studied him, confusion on her face. "She looks like you, Zi..."

"I know she does, Tim, she's our daughter. Zipporah-"

"No." He shook his head slowly. "Rivka."

"Riv-" Ziva stopped, her breath catching in her throat. "You... you talked to_ Ima_?" Tears clogged her throat, and she struggled to blink them from her eyes. He nodded. "She's okay... they know, Zi... the team... they know... she's proud of you... wants you to know... always with you..."

He finally lost the battle with the sedatives, and as his eyes closed, Ziva pressed a kiss to his forehead, choking back a sob. "Rest, baby. I'll be right here."

_"Ima?"_ She turned, the kids stood in the doorway, watching her. As they slipped into the room, Asher asked, "Did _Abba_ really see _Savta_ and Ari _Dohd_ and Mr. Grandpa Gibbs?" Ziva nodded, not trusting her voice. He sniffled; Asher had taken it hard when Rivka died, when Ari died, but even harder when Jackson died. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and she pulled him close.

* * *

"We shouldn't have told them, Tali." Sarah sniffled. She sat on the back porch, at Mallard Manor, a cup of tea in her hands, having sought an escape from the bombardment of questions and arguments the team had hauled at her after she'd broken her promise to her brother. "You knows Gibbs and the team, they'll do all they can to go to Ireland and bring them back to the States. What they don't understand is that Timmy and Ziva _don't want_ to come back. Even with all the violence, they're _happy_ there, they have their own life, they don't want to be in America. I don't think they've ever been happy here; and... and Ireland was their chance to get out. It was their chance to find their own happiness, and they have. They have everything they could ever want in Ireland, _why can't the team see that_?"

"Because no matter what, we will _always_ want what's best from McGee and Ziva, even if we_ don't know_ what's best for them, Sarah." She jumped, turning to find Tony behind him, hands in his pockets. He took a seat on the step beside her, sighing. She met his gaze.

"They left because they needed a fresh start, Tony. They couldn't have that here."

"I know."

"It was too dangerous for them to be raising their children here, when they didn't know if the next time they left home would be the last time they saw their kids."

"I get that, believe me, I do." She studied him; of all of them, besides Gibbs- Tony had remained quiet through Abby's ranting and self-obsessed whining about bringing her brother and his wife home. What the former Goth didn't realize was that to Tim and Ziva, they _were_ home. They had settled quickly into the cottage Penny had placed in Tim's name after he was born; by the time they returned to Ireland after returning to collect the rest of their things, they'd already found jobs and had enrolled the kids in school.

"Then you _have_ to understand that they needed this, they needed to be free of everything that had happened, everything that had damaged them over the years. If they'd stayed-"

"It only would have killed them faster." Tony finished. She nodded, sniffling.


	45. Chapter 45

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Four days later, Tim was allowed to return home. The boys refused to leave their father's side, and Tim had to snap at them to go into the other room just to get some time away from his sons. He understood, he did, but there was a point when care and protection went to smothering. Since the cemetery bombings, Keavy, Devin and Liam had spent more and more time at the McGee's home- especially when their parents were out of town at work.

Tim sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. Ziva looked up from her baking and joined him, sliding an arm around his waist, being gentle of the wound in his side- the same place where her father had thrown him into a glass table and impaled him with a shard years ago. Irony at its finest. "You okay, baby?" She whispered, searching his gaze. He nodded, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... just tired is all." She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She could hear laughter coming from the backyard, and knew that Liam, Keavy, Zipporah and Liron were chasing after Jethro. Asher sat on the grass in the backyard, reading and keeping a close on his siblings.

"Go lie down for a while, baby. You need to rest." He shook his head.

"I'm fine, Zi, I-" He stopped, at frantic pounding on the door. A moment passed, before he went to answer it; Ziva returned to her baking, watching through the window as her children chased after the dog. "Devin? Devin, slow down, what's wrong?" She turned from the window, going into the living room. "Talk to me, Devin." The girl was hysterical, holding tight to Tim's arms, tears rushing down her cheeks.

"They_... they took Da, Mr. McGee! They jus' up an' took him!"_ The girl continued to ramble, and finally Tim led her to the loveseat, sitting beside her.

"Devin, I need you to take a breath and calm down enough to explain it to me, can you do that?" She nodded, hiccupping. Ziva stayed on the fringes of the living room, listening intently. "Now tell me what happened." The girl took a deep, shaky breath.

"_Da... Da_ was going _t'_ work... he... he pulled _int'_ the parking lot at the hospital _an'_... _they grabbed him_..." She choked on a sob.

"Who, Devin? Who grabbed your father?" She shook her head.

"_I dinna know, Mr. McGee! But he's gone!_ P... people said he... he was begging for help... and... and they took him!_ He's nev'r coming back!"_ None of them heard the backdoor open and the other children come in, Jethro at their heels. They stopped in the entrance between the kitchen and the living room, confused.

_"Ima?"_ Ziva turned to her oldest son. "What's going on?" She shook her head, silent.

_"Why Da? He dinna do anything! He helped people on both sides! Why him? Why did they 'ave t' take Da?"_ She choked on a sob, curling into Tim's side, her sobs turning into anguished wails. Slowly, Tim wrapped his arms around the girl, holding her close. He gently rubbed her back, whispering that it would be okay, even when he knew that Devin was most likely right, that they would never find her father.

His mind flashed back to Ziva's explanation of those they deemed 'the missing' in Israel- suspected Palestine sympathizers taken in the middle of the night; sometimes shot, but often times just forever labeled missing. He remembered the articles in his scrapbook, mentioning a new disappearance or a call to find the graves of those taken in the night from their homes in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. And now, it was happening here. Slowly, he met his wife's gaze, and she covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a sob.

"_Abba_? Devin?" He turned; Asher had stepped forward, concerned for the girl he'd grown close to. Gently, Tim pressed a kiss to Devin's head, before slowly pulling away from her. He nodded for Asher to take his place, and once the boy was seated on the loveseat, he let Devin's arms slide around his neck. The girl sobbed into Asher's shoulder, and he turned to his father, but Tim just squeezed his shoulder before going to his wife. Asher turned back to Devin, slowly wrapping his arms around her, holding her close as he let her cry.

Ziva had returned to her baking, but she wasn't paying attention to the dough she was kneading. The other kids sat at the table, talking softly, and Jethro lay by the stairs, sound asleep. Tim sighed, leaning against the counter as he wrapped his hands around his wife's cup of coffee. "It's happening again, isn't it? People are disappearing, like before, like in Israel." Tim nodded, silent. Liron and Zipporah glanced at their parents, but didn't say anything; instead, they got up, heading into the living room with Keavy and Liam, but kept their ears tuned to their parents' voices.

Tim watched Ziva for several minutes; she stopped working, and he saw her hands start to shake within the dough; a soft sob escaped her throat. She sniffled, quickly reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand. She took a deep, shaky breath and returned to her kneading, but stopped. Her eyes closed and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

After a moment, Tim went to his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and squeezing gently. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, before reaching up and covering her hands with his. Gently, tenderly, he helped her knead the dough, picking up the slack when her hands stopped and her shoulders began to shake with contained sobs. "Easy, Zi, that's my girl... Easy, it's not that important, you can finish later if you want."

Ziva shook her head, choking on a sob. Tim pressed a kiss to her dark curls, whispering softly to her. She reached up, swiping at her nose, tears slipping down her cheeks. "It's..._ not... fair_..."

"I know, baby." He continued to help her knead, his fingers slipping through hers as they worked the dough slowly together, Ziva trying in vain to contain her tears. "I know, it's not fair. It wasn't fair when your father ripped us apart, it wasn't fair that I spent eight years away from my son, it wasn't fair that Julietta died, or Jackson or your mother. But the best we can do is live like they would have wanted us to, and make them proud."

In the living room, Liron got up and poked his head into the kitchen. "It reminds me of _Ghost_." He whispered, returning to his seat on the sofa beside Keavy, who curled into his side and laced their fingers together.

"The movie Tony made us watch?" Zipporah asked from her place beside on the arm of the sofa, next to Liam. He nodded, as the talking suddenly stopped. Asher glanced over his shoulder, in time to see Ziva remove her hands from the dough and burrow into Tim's chest as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, sobbing heavily.


	46. Chapter 46

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Reader for reviewing 44 and 45.**

The house was quiet; only the sounds of explosions and gunfire in the distance. Devin and the others had stayed the night; and now slept soundly on the floor in the living room. Ziva looked up, checking the time on the nightstand clock. She shifted, turning to face her husband, and gently laced their fingers; she played with his wedding ring, bring his hand to her lips and brushing a soft kiss to the cool metal. Her head snapped to the closed bedroom door, and she slowly climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake her husband. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, before slipping out of the room and heading to the stairs.

She stopped, listening. All three of her children were sound asleep, Jethro lying in the middle of the hallway, guarding her and Tim and their pups. Again, she heard it, and carefully stepped over the German Shepard, making her way silently down the stairs towards the kitchen. She quickly checked the living room, both Keavy and Liam were sound asleep, but Devin was nowhere to be seen. The sound of water boiling caused her to turn, and she made her way to the kitchen. "Devin?"

The girl jumped, letting out a strangled whimper, before realizing who it was. "M... I... I'm sorry, Mrs. McGee, I... I _jus'..._ I _couldna_ sleep... I..."

"Shh." Slowly, Devin looked up, to find Ziva standing beside her. The older woman gently brushed a tear off her cheek before reaching over and turning off the kettle. She gently pushed the girl towards the table and fixed the tea, setting a cup in front of the girl before taking a seat beside her. "Talk to me, Devin." The girl shrugged, staying silent. Taking a deep breath, Ziva licked her lips and wrapped her hands around her mug. "I know what you're going through."

"Really? Did _ye_ have a family member disappear?" The girl stared into her tea, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"No." Ziva swallowed. "Not a family member. A very close friend. We were children, and she and her brother were Palestinians, I was an Israeli Jew. Her brother was killed in an Israeli drone strike, and she was staying over at my house, a month after he was killed and... people came over in the middle of the night, and took her away. Her body was never found."

Devin nodded. "So you grew up in violence too." Ziva nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

"_Ken_, I did. I grew up around drone strikes and suicide bombings. I watched friends disappear and never come back. I lost friends and family to Hamas suicide bombings, and had to listen to the screams as people ran for cover to escape the gunfire and grenades used by the Palestinians. I know what you have gone through, because I grew up through it too. Just a different time and a different country, but the violence is still the same." She reached up, gently brushing the girl's hair off her forehead as tears slipped down Devin's cheeks. "Tim and I... we moved to Ireland in an attempt to escape the violence we lived through, and it failed. We got our fresh start, but we weren't prepared for this." She took a deep breath. "It will end someday, Devin, and when it does, we will bring your father home, I promise." The girl wrapped her arms around Ziva's waist, burying her face in her shoulder, sobbing. The older woman pressed a kiss to her head, stroking her hair.

* * *

"And that's Uncle Timmy and I in Ireland." Nearly seven months had passed since the team had found out about Tim and Ziva being in Ireland, and Sarah had done all she could to avoid the team- mainly Abby. After her attack on Tali, it had taken Sarah two days to calm down enough that she didn't storm down to NCIS HQ and bash the former Goth's head in. She looked up, pressing a kiss to her daughter's head before getting up and answering the door, Maura balanced on her hip. "Agent DiNozzo, Agent Gibbs, what... what are you doing here?"

"Can we talk, Sarah?" After a moment, she stepped back, allowing the two men to come in. As they settled on the sofa, she set Maura down; the baby crawled towards Gibbs and Tony, and both men chuckled softly. The little girl had a head of dark curls and her mother's green eyes- she reminded them both of Asher and his siblings, with their dark curls and their beautiful green eyes.

"About what, Agent DiNozzo?" She asked, handing them both a cup of coffee before she took a sip of her tea.

"About that night. Look, we're sorry for the way we acted- it was... childish and immature and..."

"And _you_ didn't act like that, Tony." Sarah replied, as Gibbs set his cup down and picked Maura up. The baby giggled, reaching for his nose, and he made a face at her, making her laugh. "Abby did. She acted like a juvenile child who wasn't allowed her favorite toy because she didn't eat her peas. She attacked all of us for keeping Tim and Ziva's secret, and you to let her get away with it! Like you let her get away with everything!"

Tony sighed. "Sarah, I know you're angry-"

"No, I'm not angry, Tony, I'm-" She stopped, hearing the signal for someone trying to contact her on Skype. But before she could answer it, Damon got to it.

"Asher, hey."

"Hi Damon_ Dohd_. _Abba_ wants to talk to Sarah _Doda_." Damon looked up from the computer, and met his wife's gaze. A moment passed, before he nodded, lifting the computer and setting it on the table in front of his wife.

"Your brother wants to talk to you, Sar." He replied. Sarah sighed, glancing at the agents. She gave her brother a smile, taking a deep breath.

"Timmy, how are you?" Her brother sighed.

"We're all doing good, Sarah. Just wanted to see how you were." She sniffled. "You okay, Sar?" She felt tears begin to prick her eyes as Ziva joined Tim, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"I... I'm so sorry, Timmy... but..."

"But what? Sarah, you're worrying us." Ziva said. It was then that Sarah burst into tears. She glanced at Gibbs and Tony; the Senior Agent got up, joining her on the arm of the chair, rubbing her back to calm her down.

"Hey Tim, hey Ziva." He whispered. "Long time no see." But all Tim and Ziva did was stare at him in shock.

"T... _Tony?"_ Ziva choked out, voice rising several octaves in surprise. Sarah took a deep breath, struggling to keep from breaking down again.

"They... know, Timmy... the... the team... _knows_..."


	47. Chapter 47

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

A soft knock sounded on his bedroom door, and Asher looked up from his book. When he didn't hear anything else, he returned to his reading. This time, the knock was louder, followed by the door opening slightly. "Asher Malachi, _hakol beseder_?" He looked up; Ziva had poked her head in.

"Sorry." Quickly, he got up, turning down the music on his stereo before returning to sit on the edge of his bed. "_Ken, Ima_. Everything's okay. Why?" His mother shrugged, slipping into the room and softly shutting the door behind her, though it didn't latch.

"You've just been awful quiet lately." She replied, as he returned to his bed. "You sure everything's okay?" He nodded, as Ziva wandered over to the small stereo on his bookshelf and picked up the CD case. She chuckled, eyes skimming some of the song titles. "So _this_ is where that decades cd set Tony got me for my birthday one year went to. You took it."

Asher blushed, and she grinned, chuckling softly as she set the cd case back on top of the stereo. Slowly, she wandered over to sit beside her son on the bed, pulling on leg up beside her. She sighed, turning back to the stereo as Don McLean's _American Pie _began to play. Asher watched in silence as his mother gently swayed to the familiar song, the lyrics dripping from her lips like the sweetest of nectars as she sang softly under her breath.

_"'... did you write the book of love, and do you have faith in God above, if the Bible tells you so?'"_ Asher loved to listen to his mother sing; he remembered her singing lullabies to him when he was a baby and they were in Israel, and he had often wondered about that night his parents had gotten together, if she'd sung to his father as she had often sung to him. _"'Do you believe in rock 'n roll, can music save your mortal soul, and can you teach me how to dance real slow?'"_ She winked at her son, holding out a hand; he took it, allowing his mother to pull him to his feet, and they began to dance together.

Asher bit his lip; he'd often followed his mother, singing with her when he was little, it was something that would often make her smile whenever she came home from a particularly difficult mission- he'd beg her to put a cd or record on and sing, and they'd dance around the living room together- often to the delight of Rivka and Tali when his grandmother was alive. He took a deep breath, and Ziva nodded, giving him her support. _"'Well, I know that you're in love with him 'cause I saw you dancin' in the gym. You both kicked off your shoes. Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.'"_ Ziva grinned, spinning her son before allowing him to do the same to her. _"'I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck, with a pink carnation and a pickup truck, but I knew I was out of luck, the day the music died.'"_

Neither heard Tim come down the hallway, headed for their room before heading to the store. He pulled on his jacket, passing Asher's room, and stopped. He had to be hearing things. But his curiosity won out and he doubled back, stopping at the door and resting his forehead to the wood, listening. Through the slightly open door, he could see his wife dancing with their oldest son, as they took turns singing verses of what sounded like Don McClean's _American Pie_.

_"'... the courtroom was adjourned; no verdict was returned. And while Lennon read a book on Marx, the quartet practiced in the park, and we sang dirges in the dark the day the music died.'"_ Asher giggled before joining his mother on the chorus of the famous folk song._ "'We were singing, "bye-bye, Miss American pie." Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye and singing'...'"_

Tim chuckled softly, crossing his arms as he watched his wife and son relax and enjoy themselves. He knew his wife could sing; that she had a beautiful voice, and could have made it as a singer had she lived a very different life, but the thought that she'd passed that gorgeous voice of hers onto her son- their son- was something Tim hadn't even considered.

_"'Oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space with not time left to start again.'"_ Ziva laughed, walking her fingers up her son's arm as she sang. _"'So come on: Jack be nimble, Jack be quick! Jack flash sat on a candlestick, cause fire is the devil's only friend.'"_ Asher giggled, swinging his mother's hands.

_"'... No angel born in hell could break that Satan's spell. And as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite, I saw Satan laughing with delight, the day the music died.'"_ Asher slowly laced his fingers with his mother's- easier to keep his grip on her hands as they danced together to the McLean song. Both were completely unaware that they had Tim enthralled by the simple act of singing and dancing to a song he himself had grown up listening to his entire life. But then again, while the song was just a song to him, it was obviously something very different- and _meant_ something very different- to his wife and son.

For, those first eight years of Asher's existence, he and Ziva had lived a very different life to Tim's. A song like this must have spoken of all their hopes and dreams of escaping Israel and starting a new life with him in America.

As the music and lyrics slowed down, Ziva continued to sway, and slowly, Asher wrapped his arms around his mother's waist, resting his head against her, listening to the beat of her heart as it mixed with her voice and the beat of the music._ "'I met a girl who sang the blues and I asked her for some happy news, but she just smiled and turned away. I went down to the sacred store where I'd heard the music years before, but the man there said the music wouldn't play.'"_ She sighed, wrapping her arms around her son, reaching up to stroke his hair, her voice growing soft as the next verse screamed to what her children- what all children and everyone in the Republic -were living through at that moment in time.

Asher looked up at her, resting his chin on her chest. _"'And in the streets: the children screamed, the lovers cried, and the poets dreamed. But not a word was spoken; the church bells all were broken.'"_ She gently brushed her fingers over her son's forehead, moving through his dark curls as she sang. _"'And the three men I admire most: the father, son,'"_ She gently tapped her son's nose, giving him a small smile, as her wedding ring glinted in the light._ "'and holy ghost, they caught the last train for the coast, the day the music died.'"_

She pressed a kiss to her son's head as he settled against her; she gently squeezed his side, brushing a kiss to his head. _"'And they were singing, "bye-bye, Miss American pie." Drove my Chevy to the levee to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye singin', "this'll be the day that I die.'"_ Asher snuggled closer to his mother. _"'this'll be the day that I die.'"_

She walked them back towards the bed, rubbing her son's side as they went, her fingers finally tangling in his hair. She pressed another soft kiss to his head._ "'They were singing, "bye-bye, Miss American pie." Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye singin', "this'll be the day that I die.'"_

After a moment, Tim moved away from the door, leaving his wife and son in peace.


	48. Chapter 48

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

As the song changed to another- The Byrds' _Turn! Turn! Turn!_\- Asher climbed back onto the bed. He tugged on Ziva's hand, and she settled across from her son, stretching out on her side and propping herself on her elbow, head on her hand. They sat in silence for several minutes, before Asher said, "_Abba_ says that song describes... America in the sixties. Does it?" Ziva shrugged, biting briefly on her fingernail.

"It describes a lot of turbulent points in history- maybe not as accurately as America's, but it still describes a point of change. I think _Abba_ would agree that it even describes what we're going through now, don't you?" The boy thought a moment, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. He nodded quickly, silent.

"_Ima_?"

"Hmm?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Do... did you ever sing to _Abba_?" She started, surprised by the question. A moment passed, as Ziva struggled to gather her thoughts. Several seconds passed, before she nodded. She had no idea why the simple question had startled her so.

"_Ken_, I have. Just as I sang to you and your brother and sister. I have always made a point to sing to my loved ones, even if they don't want to hear it; I believe it's good for them, it calms them." She reached up, gently lifting her son's chin to look into his green eyes. "I sang to you when you were in my belly. Whenever you would get anxious or jittery, I would sing and you would calm." She gently brushed her fingers against her son's chin. "You always calmed immediately."

_She groaned, taking a seat in the rocking chair her Saba had built when he built the house. Rivka had taken Tali to the store, letting her have some time to herself. As she gently began to move the chair, she winced; he was being particularly active today, as if he knew it was just his mother at the house. A sigh escaped her throat, and tenderly, she brushed her fingers over her belly._

_There were only four weeks left until her son arrived, and she was anxious for him to come into the world, if only to save her internal organs from anymore damage thanks to her son's active movements. It didn't help that every morning she awoke hoping that he would be there to take her- take them- to America with him. But every morning, she again found herself alone, with only the baby growing inside her as a reminder of the boy her father had literally ripped from her arms._

_She hissed as he kicked her hard in the side, and gently rubbed the area. "Easy, little one. Ima cannot take much more abuse. I know, you are anxious to be out of there, just as much as I am anxious to have you come out. But you have to calm; we only have to endure this for four more weeks and then you can come out. Okay?" When the baby kicked her hard in response, started rocking again, and soon, a soft lullaby- one Rivka still sang to her and Tali- began to fall from her lips, and seemed to calm the little one in her tummy._

She searched her son's gaze, thinking. It amazed her, how much her son had grown before her very eyes, and yet, there were times that she felt she didn't recognize the boy in front of her. The baby Tim had given her all those years ago was growing up, becoming more and more like his father with each passing day. And the mere thought that he would someday be an adult, with his own life and his own family, brought tears to her dark eyes. "Don't cry, _Ima_." She choked on a breathy laugh as he reached up and brushed away a tear, much like he used to do when he was little and she got upset. She took his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"You are the most precious thing in my life, Asher. You always have been, from the moment _Abba_ and I conceived you. You gave me the chance to live and the opportunity to survive, and I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost you that day." She sniffled, pressing another kiss to her son's hand. "I never would have had the nerve to find _Abba_ if it wasn't for you. Do not _ever, ever_ think that I regret you." Asher lowered his gaze, surprised she'd picked up on his thoughts. Since he'd stormed out of the kitchen after breakfast that morning, telling Ziva and Tim that he knew he was the reason they'd had to leave NCIS, she'd been trying to think of some way to get her son to talk. "I know what you're thinking, Asher Malachi. I'm your mother, I know a lot of what goes on in your head, because I have had those _same thoughts_ bounce around in mine."

He swallowed. "_Ima_?" He glanced up at her before his gaze darted down again. "Will... will you hate me if... if I tell you something?"

"Oh Asher, my angel, I could never hate you, you're my son." He swallowed. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

His green gaze darted to hers, and then back down before he whispered, "I... Devin and I... we... we French-kissed." He glanced up at his mother, her eyebrows were raised in interest.

"_Really_?" He nodded. "When was this?"

"A... a few months ago... b... before you and _Abba_... gave us boundaries... I came up here to look for a book and... and Devin came to help and... and she kissed me... with... tongue... like the... like the French people do... we... we just wanted to... to try it... we didn't do... didn't do anything else... I... I swear..."

Ziva chuckled. "I know how the French kiss, my angel. I have been French-kissed before." She stopped, thinking, before reaching up to gently brushing her fingers through her son's hair. "Why are you telling me this, my angel? You could have easily kept it a secret." He shrugged.

"_Abba_ can't lie, so..."

"So you figured, since _Abba_ doesn't know how to lie, that you shouldn't lie." He nodded. Ziva sighed. "Let me guess, you were trying to gather the courage for all these months to tell me,_ ken_?"

"_Ken_." He whispered. "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?" He shrugged, chewing his bottom lip.

"I... I don't know."

"Oh baby," She gently cradled his head in her hand. "The only thing I'm upset about is that you're growing up, but it's not my job to keep you a child forever. All _Abba_ and I are supposed to do is raise you and love you and support you in whatever you wish to do. We will hate that you and your brother and sister are growing up, but we hope that we are teaching the right things, and that you understand the difference between right and wrong, and that you learn from our mistakes and the missteps we took as we became adults. But I could never be mad at you, not over something like that." She thought a moment. "If you had slept with Devin and not used protection or pulled some stunt equally as stupid, yes, I would be mad, and so would _Abba_, but a French kiss? No. That's nothing to be mad at. And don't you dare-"

Her son made a face. "Ew. That's disgusting." Ziva laughed, snorting softly.

"When you are ready, you will not think that way, my angel. Trust me. You will be thinking very differently when you are ready for that." Asher nodded, understanding.

"_Ima_, do you regret having me?" She shook her head.

"No. Never. I could never regret you, Asher. You know why?" The boy shook his head. "Because you are the product of... _absolute_ passion and abandon and love. _Abba_ and I, we didn't know each other very well when we created you, but that doesn't mean that we didn't love each other; we had always been in love, from the moment we met, we just... we didn't see it until that night, and it took us _eight years_ to finally admit it to ourselves and each other when we reunited. I have always loved you, and no matter how hard it was for us in Israel, never once-_ never once_\- did I regret conceiving you with _Abba_ and giving birth to you. Not with the gift your birth gave me."

The boy stared at her, confused. "What gift was that, _Ima_?"

She pushed herself up, motioning for him to join her. He settled against his mother, as she wrapped an arm around him, holding her son close. She pressed a kiss to his temple, whispering,

"You gave me a life, my angel. You gave me life."


	49. Chapter 49

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

Asher held tight to her hand as Ziva headed down the stairs. She glanced around when they reached the kitchen, but only Keavy and Zipporah were there, sitting at the table, huddled together as they read a copy of _Deep Six_. "Zipporaleh, were is _Abba_?" Zipporah stopped reading aloud, and swallowed. She didn't turn around, but Ziva went to her daughter, kneeling down to meet her daughter's gaze. "Zipporah,_ where. Is. Abba_?"

A moment passed before the girl caved. "He... he said he was going to the store. That... that he would be back soon... Brother and I asked if we could go with him, but he told us to stay... _I'm sorry, Ima_..." She sniffled, and Ziva pushed Asher towards his sister, before rushing through the kitchen into the living room and grabbing her jacket off the back of the armchair.

"_Ima_?" She ignored her sons, and Liam exchanged glances with Devin over their game of chess as Liron looked up from his book. "Where are you going?" She pulled her jacket on, brushing her hair out of the collar of her jacket as she unlocked the safe and grabbed her gun, checking it before slipping it back into the holster and into her side. "_Ima_, what's wrong?"

She moved to shut the safe, and then noticed something- her husband's gun was gone. "_Damn it_, Tim." She kicked the wall, slamming the safe shut and relocking it as Asher, Keavy and Zipporah came into the living room.

"What's _a'matter_, Mrs. Mcgee?" Liam asked, sharing a glance with Devin. They'd never seen the normally mild-tempered Israeli act like this before, but Liron and his siblings had, setting aside his book on Marx and getting up from the sofa. He went to her, but Keavy grabbed his arm, stopping him as Ziva lost her temper and kicked the wall again, swearing in Hebrew.

"_Damn it, Timothy! Ani Soneh Atah! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_ Liam turned to the siblings.

"_Ani Soneh_-" But Asher shook his head, telling him to keep quiet. A moment passed before Ziva turned to her oldest son and his siblings.

"Stay here. _All_ of you. I'll be right back." Asher rushed after her as she went to the door.

"_Ima_, where are you going?" Ziva turned back to her son.

"I'll be right back. I'm just gonna go kill_ yer_ father." And then, without another word, she left, slamming the door hard behind her. Asher turned back to the others. He swallowed.

"Brother, why was_ Ima_ upset?" He sighed, as Liam took Zipporah's hand. The oldest boy shrugged.

"Well, _Abba_'s either going to do something stupid, or he's found a lead on-"

"_Da_?" Devin whispered. Asher nodded.

"That's really the only reason he'd take his gun- if he found a lead and was going to kill the- the people who took him." Zipporah choked on a sob.

_"I'm sorry, I... I should have told Ima sooner..."_ Asher went to his sister, pulling her into a hug, whispering softly to her to calm her tears.

* * *

He'd been following these tips and rumors for the last seven months or so. It didn't matter to him if he was no longer a federal agent, he just couldn't leave it alone. It was something he'd learned from years of working under Gibbs. Rule Fifty-nine: Leave no stone unturned when the case is personal.

And this case, this case was _personal_.

Enya and Patrick O'Maura were good friends of his and Ziva's. Very good friends. Even before Devin and Asher had shown any interest in each other, he and Enya had enjoyed morning chats over coffee before anyone else turned up at the office, discussing their childhoods in Ireland- for Tim and Sarah had spent two years going to school in Ireland when they were kids- their children, and anything else they found in common. Enya was a movie buff, much like Tony was, but she loved more the classics; _Jane Eyre, Rebecca_, any film by Chaplin. Both had survived abusive parents and vowed to never lay a hand on their children the way they had.

So when Devin showed up in tears, sobbing that Patrick was missing, Tim knew he couldn't just up and let the man remain missing. He and Enya had been too good to them and their children, being the first to welcome he and Ziva to Clontarf when they first moved here. Though it hadn't been easy, hiding his investigation from his wife, and he'd probably get an earful if not a headful of knife tips when he returned home, but if he could bring even a bit of peace to Devin and Enya, he'd willingly welcome his wife's knives with open arms.

At one point though, he stopped, hearing someone behind him. Years of sharing a bed, a home, with Ziva, Tim had picked up her little tricks and skills. Slowly, he reached for his gun. Then, in one swift motion, he turned, raising the gun and cocking it, aiming it at his stalker.

* * *

She was going to kill him this time, she really was. Leaving without telling her, when there were bombs going off in the streets, riots taking over the cities and towns, bullets flying everywhere- yeah, Timothy McGee was a dead man. Ziva would make sure of it.

It didn't help that he had a good-sized head start.

But finally, she found her target, feet ahead, and she slowed down her pace, taking her time as she got closer. Her Mossad training kicked in, and she skulked towards her husband, matching him step for step until they reached the outskirts of Clontarf, near the harbor. And then he stopped. She watched him reach into his jacket and instantly mimicked him, reaching for her own gun. In the next instant, they'd both drawn their guns on each other, shouting the one phrase they- no matter how much time passed- they still couldn't get out of their heads.

_"Federal agent!"_

Minutes passed, before they both slowly lowered their weapons. "Ziva? What_ the hell_ are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same, Tim." He sighed, putting his gun back into the holster at his side.

"I've been working on Patrick O'Maura's disappearance since Devin told us about it. I've finally got a lead."

"Oh _really_? And_ when_ were you going to tell me, Timothy?" She asked, stepping towards him after placing her own gun back in its holster. She crossed her arms over her chest, sauntering over to her husband. But Tim didn't respond, his green eyes darted from her feet to the abandoned cargo crates on the dock they stood by and back.

"No. Zi, don't-" But she stepped on the tripwire at that exact moment. _"Ziva, no!"_

The next instant, he slammed into her, throwing them both to the ground, causing them to roll several feet as an explosion shook the ground and the crates blew up where they'd been standing. When they finally stopped rolling, Ziva looked up into her husband's eyes, her breathing heavy. People that had been walking by, rushed to help; someone called for the fire department and police, and soon the area was swarming with people. But they only noticed each other.

"You okay, Zi?" She nodded, silently relishing his familiar weight on her body. It was comforting, warm, which mean they were both still alive-

"_Ken_. You?" He nodded, nudging his nose to hers, releasing a sigh of relief.


	50. Chapter 50

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Guest for reviewing 49 and Reader for reviewing 46, 47, 48 and 49.**

"Are_ ye_ okay, Mr. and Mrs. McGee?" The pair looked up, meeting an officer's gaze- James Bronwyn- a man who lived in their neighborhood. Both nodded, as Tim climbed to his feet, helping his wife up.

"Yeah. We're okay." James nodded.

_"What the hell were you thinking, Timothy?_ You_ know_ better than to-" Ziva started, shoving her husband hard once they were on their feet.

"What were _ye lookin'_ for, Mr. McGee?" Tim sighed, suddenly feeling like an idiot.

"Honestly, anything to help find Patrick O'Maura-" But before he could say anything else, another man rushed up, holding something out to James. He took it, studying it a moment before holding it out to Tim. The former agent stopped silent.

"Tim?" He swallowed; so his lead had been right. Slowly, he reached out, picking up the ring Devin had told them about how she and Enya had picked it out for her father's birthday a couple years earlier. The gold and silver Celtic knot ring had managed to somehow survive the explosion, being only slightly burned along the rim, but both Tim and Ziva knew this belonged to Devin's father. Patrick never took if off, he kept it on top of his wedding ring, the two most important gifts from his girls, he often said.

Tim took a deep breath, meeting his wife's gaze. "I wish _to God_ I'd been wrong, Zi." Her gaze darted to the ring, and she wrapped an arm around his waist.

* * *

"I just... I figured it was worth a shot; I was a federal agent for over ten years, finding people was part of my _job_." He winced as Ziva gently dabbed at the burn on his forehead. "I just... for once, I wish my hunch had been wrong." He hissed, pulling away from his wife.

"Sorry." She gently caught his chin, meeting his gaze as she squeezed the cloth out and returned to dabbing at his skin. "I know, baby. And I love that you even _considered_ it, but you could have gotten yourself killed. You nearly did." He met her gaze, swallowing.

"But we found the last piece of-"

"I know. And maybe that will bring her and Enya some comfort at least. More than most families will ever get." Ziva stopped, thinking. It was Tim that spoke up next.

"How many near misses have we had in life, Zi? Especially under Gibbs?" She chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. He met her gaze, and she relented.

"Let's see... there was the bombing at NCIS, the car crash we were in after we came back from Berlin, the-"

"_The Chimera_." She chuckled softly.

"_Ken_, and I nearly killed Tony over a_ freckle_." He laughed softly, meeting her gaze. "When the Iranians tried to frame me for murder and espionage, the week before I discovered I was pregnant with Liron..."

"And the serial killer than nearly claimed you as one of his victims." She nodded.

"The time we went to Baghdad, the night my father tried to kill you-"

"And we can't forget Somalia." She stopped mid-wring of the cloth in her hand, meeting his eyes, the words penetrating her brain like a bullet through her forehead. A moment passed before she turned towards the stairs; though she couldn't _see_ the kids, she knew they were listening intently.

"Zipporah almost didn't happen thanks to Somalia." She whispered, finishing her wringing of the cloth. "Liron was a toddler."

Tim met his wife's gaze, surprise in those beautiful green depths. It was the unspoken rule in the family, and the team- that no one make mention of Somalia or what happened those months before Tim and the team had come and rescued her- for Ziva never spoke of it after her rescue, nor had she ever mentioned any of the abuse she had suffered at the hands of Saleem and his cohorts to anyone in the psychological profession or otherwise. He paled, horrified at what his wife was implying. "God, Zi, they didn't-"

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Oh God, no. I'm Jewish, Tim. And what is worse, is that I am a Jewish _Israeli_. To consummate with a Jew is bad, to consummate with an_ Israeli_ Jew is death upon itself twice." Tim scoffed softly. "None of them would risk contamination by laying anything other than a hand on me, and then not even that."

Her husband thought a moment, pursing his lips momentarily. "Then I guess I've died and gone to Hell three times over, huh?" She dropped the cloth, reaching up and laying a hand on his cheek.

"No. You do not hold the same beliefs Saleem and his men held. You do not see me, our son_ or_ my people as a disease, Tim."

"Only a cure, Zi. Only as a cure." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her palm. She sighed, returning to her work.

"I was terrified when I discovered that we'd conceived Zipporah. I thought for sure I would miscarry, thanks to the beatings Saleem had given me. But Tali told me I was fine, that _ken_, there was organ damage, but not enough that it would affect my pregnancy with Zipporah. And then she was born nine months later- our beautiful, healthy baby girl."

Tim winced, hissing as he pulled away. "Ow, Zi, stop!" He reached up, grabbing her wrist and yanking her hand away.

"What's wrong?" He reached up, brushing his fingers against the spot on his forehead, and then Ziva realized it was more than just a burn, it was a nice deep cut. "Oh, sorry, baby." Gingerly, she began sponging at the cut, cleaning out the debris and dirt. A moment passed, before she continued on with their earlier conversation. "Even now, I still worry- that my body will give out when I least expect it. That my organs will stop and I will be unable to do anything to stop it. I have always been cautious, but in Somalia... I have been tortured before, but... but never like that... never that severely."

Their silence was broken when Devin left the group on the stairs and came into the kitchen. "Um.. Mr. and Mrs. McGee?" She waited nervously, shuffling her feet. Tim shared a glance with his wife, before he sighed and pulled the ring from his pocket. He set it on the table, and Devin choked on a sob. "_Ye_ found _Da_?" Tim nodded.

"I'm sorry, Devin. Tripwire, down by the dock. Killed instantly. This was the only thing that survived." Slowly, the girl picked up the ring, wrapping her fingers around it before throwing her arms around Tim's shoulders, sobs shaking her body.

"Thank _ye_, Mr. McGee."


	51. Chapter 51

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

_"Boker Tov, Abba."_ Tim glanced over his shoulder as Asher shuffled into the kitchen at five in the morning. Two weeks had passed since Devin's father had been killed, and he and the other kids had tried their hardest to keep her mind off her father's murder; the ring Tim had brought back from the scene gave her some closure, but not a lot. He joined his father at the kitchen counter, leaning into the older man's side. Tim glanced down at his son, grabbing another mug from the cupboard and filling it partway with coffee before adding cream and sugar and setting it in front of his son. _"Toda."_ The boy whispered, picking it up.

_"Al lo davar."_ Tim replied, laying a hand on his son's shoulder and gently guiding him towards the kitchen table. They sat in silence for several minutes, letting the others sleep in, even though it was only a little after four. Eventually, Tim got up, going to the back door. "Come on." Asher glanced towards the stairs, before getting up and following his father.

"Where are we going, _Abba_?"

"Grab your jacket. We're gonna go for a walk." The boy glanced down at his pajamas, before looking at his father. Tim was fully dressed, but that was normal for a man who'd spent the majority of his federal law enforcement career being called in at insane hours of the morning to work cases. He remembered being woken up one morning at just before one, because Gibbs had called his parents in to work while the older agent, Ducky and Vance headed to San Diego. His mother had been studying to become an American citizen, but all he really remembered after arriving at the bullpen was settling on his father's lap and falling sleep with the sound of his father's heartbeat in his ear.

"But_ Ima_-" The boy turned back to the kitchen confused.

"I already wrote_ Ima_ a note, sweetheart. Now go get dressed, okay?" A moment passed before Asher did as told, heading upstairs and chaining into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and his sneakers before heading for the stairs. He stopped, glancing at his parents' room before doubling back and slipping into the bedroom. Ziva was sound asleep, and after a moment, he went to his mother, pressing a kiss to her cheek before heading downstairs. Tim helped his son into his jacket and then closed the backdoor behind them.

They walked down to the beach; listening as the waves crashed at their feet. At one point, Asher took his father's hand, looking up at him. "_Abba_?"

"Hmm?" He glanced at his son, but the boy kept quiet. "What is it, sweetheart?" After a moment, Tim took a seat on the sand, Asher joining him. Silence surrounded them, except for the crashing of the waves and the whistle of the breeze. "Something bothering you?" Asher bit his lip.

"Um..." The boy glanced at his father. "Devin and I... we... we French-kissed." Tim raised an eyebrow.

"_Really?_ When?"

"A few... months ago. Before... before you gave us boundaries... I... I came upstairs to... to look for a book and... and Devin followed and... and she kissed me. That's_ all_ we did, _Abba_, I _swear_!" Tim held up a hand to silence his son's protests.

"Sweetheart, I believe you." Tim took a sip of his coffee- he'd filled a couple travel mugs with coffee before they left, figuring they'd need the caffeine. "But why are you telling me this now? And more importantly, have you told_ Ima_ yet?" He nodded.

"A few weeks ago." His father thought a moment, watching his son.

"Why did you tell us? You could have kept it to yourself, and neither _Ima_ nor I would know anything about it." Asher ducked his head and mumbled something. "I'm sorry?"

"It's because... you suck at lying... and... wouldn't be able to lie if your life depended on it and..."

Tim chuckled. "And who told you-" He stopped. "When we get home,_ Ima_ is a dead woman." Asher giggled. "Sweetheart, I can't lie because when I was growing up, _Savta_ Penny taught Sarah_ Doda _and I that it wasn't just morally wrong to lie, that it was emotionally and mentally wrong to lie." He stopped at his son's confused look. "You know_ Savta_, she's a free spirit." The boy nodded. "And she's been a free spirit since before there was a_ term_ for free spirits. Sarah and I always poked fun at her because she's one of those... those new age metaphysical believers and... your Doda and I have always believed in things we can see, things we can touch and feel beneath our fingers." He reached up, brushing a hand through his son's curls. "Like you and_ Ima_ and your siblings."

"So... Savta's... _meh'sho'ga_?"

Tim thought a moment, wrinkling his nose. "I wouldn't... I wouldn't call her _crazy, per say_..." He bit his lip. "More like... eccentric."

"What?" Asher stared at his father, confused. Some American words still confused him, even though he now spoke fluent English with a hint of his Israeli accent- thanks to listening to all the conversations he'd grown up around in the bullpen.

"Unconventional. Whimsical. Impulsive." The boy nodded. They sat in silence, staring out at the waves. Asher scooted closer to his father, laying his head on Tim's shoulder. The former agent glanced at his son, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"_Abba_?" Tim waited, and Asher pulled away to look at him. The boy bit his lip.

"Hmm?"

Minutes passed in silence, before Asher met his father's gaze, asking, "Do... are... are we going to die? Be... because of... of what's happening?" Tim searched his son's face, seeing the fear in those green depths, realizing the stress this chaos had put on his children. Tim pulled his son close. How did he reassure his child that they would all be okay?

"Of course we're not going to die, sweetheart. This fighting will pass, and everything will work itself out, and life will go back to normal eventually. It's not our time yet, none of us. There are lives that need to be lived, and we're going to live them, okay?" The boy nodded, listening to his father's heartbeat. "I promise, everything will be okay." But even as the words left his lips, Tim knew that this promise would be the hardest to keep.


	52. Chapter 52

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Okay, I hate that I can't keep this story under 50 chapters. Again, I'm _so sorry_, guys...**

**A/N: And a bit more background on Asher's early years in Israel with Ziva...**

**Thanks to Reader 50 and 51.**

He turned another page in his book, humming along softly to the words. His parents were downstairs, his father working on his novel and his mother baking, since they'd finished their work for the day. Asher had helped Ziva bake from the moment he was old enough to hold a spoon, and he knew that it helped to calm the former Mossad officer down.

The last time he'd been downstairs- getting a cup of coffee- Devin and Keavy had somehow convinced Zipporah to let them do her nails. How the hell she'd agreed- since Zipporah was against any sort of pampering- Asher didn't know and he didn't want to know. Well, except when it came to her hair; those long, thick dark curly locks that Zipporah and her siblings possessed- their mother's beautiful, long dark curls- was his baby sister's only true vanity.

And why wouldn't it be, when it was coupled with that soft olive tone and those striking emerald eyes?

He knew that Liron was curled up on the armchair, legs over an arm, reading, Jethro laying on the floor beside him. And Liam had been helping Ziva, talking softly with her, telling her about his grandmother, who lived up north in Derry.

Another page turned, and he became even further lost in the story of Gregor Samsa, and how he became a gigantic beetle- because Asher considered the cockroach right up there with sex, disgusting- and he kicked his pillow reflexively. He stopped reading momentarily as the house shook from the force of another explosion, followed by the scream of gunfire, and then once things seemed to calm down, he returned to his book. Once again becoming lost in his book, he softly sang along with Eagles' front man, Don Henley as the 'seventies rocker sang about his arrival at the_ Hotel California_.

"_'Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place, such a lovely face. They livin' it up at the Hotel California. What a nice surprise, bring your alibis.'_" He turned another page in his book, taking a sip of his coffee._ "'Mirrors on the ceiling, the pink champagne on ice. And she said, 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device.' And in the masters' chambers, they gathered...'"_ He set his cup down, turning another page._ "... stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast...'"_

He became lost in the book, not noticing when the track changed to Queen's _Bohemian Rhapsody_. It was then, during the first milky smooth notes of Freddy Mercury's unique voice, that Asher heard the knock on his bedroom door._ "Bo henna."_ Silence met him on the other end, but by then, the guitar had taken over. And then the door opened, and Liron poked his head in.

"Asher?" The older boy looked up from his novel, green eyes wide. "Can I come in?" The other boy nodded, confused as to why his baby brother was asking.

"Yeah, I said you could."

"You did?" Asher nodded. "Oh, I... I didn't hear you."

"_Bo henna_? It means 'come in' in Hebrew." Asher clarified, as the boy nodded and closed the door behind him. He grabbed his cup and sat up, watching as Liron looked around nervously. "Did you just come in to look around, Brother, or-" Liron turned his attention from the stereo, eyes wide. "Oh, sorry." He quickly got up, moving to turn the music off, when the younger boy stopped him.

"I didn't know you liked Queen." Asher turned back to him, nodding.

"But... they're a band from the eighties-" He shrugged, turning down the music slightly and returning to his bed.

"I know." He bit his lip, glancing at his brother. "When I was growing up in Israel, with _Ima_, before we went to America and found_ Abba_..." He glanced at the boy, as he took a seat at Asher's desk. "On her days off, _Ima_ would sometimes go into Be'er Sheva and take me with her... and she would take me to this... to this little shop that sold... records and... and cds and... and dvds and..." He closed his book, setting it beside him on the bed as he pulled his legs underneath him. "and she would... she would let me pick out one cd that looked interesting to me."

_Ziva knelt down, so that she was eye-to-eye with her son. She gently took his shoulders, searching his face. "You remember our deal, Asher Malachi?" The boy nodded. "One cd- one-" She said, holding up a finger. "and it has to be one that you think is interesting. Not one I think is interesting, one you think is interesting, otherwise I will not buy it. Okay?"_ _The boy nodded and she stood, but stopped, thinking. _

_"Ima, you buy one if you think interesting?" His mother turned back to him and knelt down again._

_"Would you feel better if I bought one also?" He nodded. She pursed her lips briefly, before, "Okay. I will find one that I think is interesting, and you will find one that you think is interesting, so we have two cds that are interesting. That a deal?" He nodded, and Ziva pressed a kiss to his cheek before she ruffled his hair. Then, she gently pushed the boy forward, and wandered off. The child watched his mother walk away, before turning to the bins and stacks of cd cases and records. _

_He wandered among the bins and stacks, before coming to a bin sitting on a low table. A moment passed, as he struggled to read the words written on the piece of paper taped to the bin- he'd been speaking Hebrew his whole life, but since his mother had been teaching him English after preschool, he kept getting his Hebrew and English mixed up. It was understandable, the boy was only four and a half, after all. He rose up on his toes, and looked through the cd cases, passing each one aside when he found he didn't like the pictures on the covers._

_But he stopped, rising further on his toes to reach the cd at the very back of the bin. Losing his balance, he sat hard on the ground, cds all around him, and quickly, he picked them all up and put the bin back, making sure he'd left out the one that had caught his attention. Then, he sat back on the ground and picked it up, studying it. The cover was white, but there was a funny pattern on it, with different colors, and the album title in blue. He slowly opened the case; the cd had the same colors on the disc, and after a moment, he closed it. It was different- probably something most people didn't buy._

_"Have you- Asher Malachi, what are you doing on the floor?" He looked up as his mother knelt down. "Did you fall, are you hurt?" He shook his head and held out the cd case to her. She took it, studying the case before reading the title. "Queen: A Night at the Opera. Are you sure you want to get this?" He nodded. "You are sure this is the one you want?" He nodded again. "You are positive?"_

_"Ken, Ima." He whispered. Ziva sighed and stood, scooping her son up and settling him on her hip._

_"Okay." She made her way to the register and set down both cds- for she'd found a Michael Jackson cd- even as Asher whimpered and reached for his. "Shh. You will get it back, I promise, my angel. Mr. Hassan is just going to ring them up and then we can have them back. Okay?" The boy nodded, and she pressed a quick kiss to her son's cheek._

_"He is certainly growing up, Ms. David." Ziva smiled, adjusting her hold on her son. "He will look like his father someday." A flash of sadness filled her countenance for the briefest of moments, before she forced a smile. _

_"Ken, he will. He already does." She whispered, reaching up and brushed back Asher's dark curls from his forehead as the boy laid his head on her shoulder._

Asher glanced back at the stereo; that cd, that he'd been so desperate to reach that long ago day in the store, that he'd toppled a bin to get, was now playing in his stereo, along with four others he'd picked out over those long months in Israel. It had been a tradition, from that moment on, when Ziva went down to the record store, that Asher would go with her, and they would each pick out a cd they thought was interesting or liked, and buy them. By the time they came to America, Asher had quite a collection of music- ranging from Queen to Ella Fitzgerald to Nirvana to The Mamas and Papas. "Even in America, we would still go to the record stores and pick a cd, each of us." He shrugged. "It's tradition." He turned back to his younger brother. "Sorry, Brother, what did you want to talk about?"

The younger boy bit his lip. He'd been grateful when Asher had been talking, cause then it meant that he wouldn't have to bring up what he wanted to ask, afraid the older boy would poke fun at him. "Um... I... I want to... to kiss Keavy." He glanced down at his hands, afraid to meet his brother's eyes.

"I thought you already kissed her." Liron nodded, studying his nails.

"I... I did. I... I do, I just... I kind of want to..." He looked up, meeting his brother's gaze. "French-kiss her."


	53. Chapter 53

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: There's a reason behind this chapter...**

"I don't like this, Tim. It's getting more and more dangerous. It reminds me of Israel..." She sighed. "I _thought_ we moved here to get _away_ from the violence, not find _more_." She climbed to her feet, going to the kitchen counter and leaning against it as she stared out the window. Tim sighed. It had been nearly four months since Tim had made his promise to Asher on the beach that morning, and so far, they'd been able to keep it, but he didn't know for how much longer.

"Zi," He got up, going to her. "We moved here for a fresh start, we just happened to hit a bad point in-"

"A 'bad' point?" She asked, eyes widening. "No, Tim, a _bad point_ is when you're _stuck_ in an _elevator_ thanks to a bomb that goes off in front of your _office building_! A bad point is when your_ father _tries to_ murder_ your _husband_ by throwing him into a glass table _and then attempting to choke him to death!_ A bad point is killing_ two_ innocents because they get caught in the crossfire of the man you're targeting for killing your sister and mother!" Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled away, running a hand through her curls. "If I had _wanted_ to live in this violence, I would have _stayed_ in Israel!"

"So you wouldn't have come back with me if I'd asked?" He countered. She turned to him, shocked.

_"What?"_

"You heard me, Ziva."

"God, Tim, where the_ hell_ did that come from?"

"I don't know, maybe from when you _fled_ with my_ children_-"

"You are _never_ going to let that go, _are you_?" She demanded.

_"Why should I?" _

_"It was one mistake, Timothy! One moment of weakness, that I remedied, but all you do is hold it over my head, even years later!" _

_"I'm not holding it over your head!"_

_"Oh yes, you are!"_ She screamed. _"My God, you cannot let things go, can you? I'm here with you, aren't I? Our children are here, we're a family, you and I, we're a team-" _

_"And here we go again, bringing up the 'team',_ like_ always_." He put special emphasis on team with his fingers in quotes, and she narrowed her eyes.

"_What are you talking_ about?"

"I'm talking about that _condescending bastard Gibbs_-"

_"Oh God, Tim! You're being childish! Act like an adult for once in your life!" _

_"I should act like an adult? Look who's talking! I wasn't the one who ran scared! I wasn't the one who rushed home to Israel when things got too hard to handle!" _

_"Don't you dare bring that up again, Tim!"_ She snapped, jabbing a finger in his chest.

"_Why?_ Because you _know_ you were in the wrong? You _know_ you made the wrong choice? Ziva, you left me, you took my children- _my children_\- and _ran_!"

_"They aren't just your children!"_ She screamed, shoving him._ "They aren't just yours! They're mine too! I_ was the one that carried them, that gave_ birth_ to them;_ I_ was the one that raised Asher_ alone_ until he turned eight and we came to America! Until then, you had_ no say_ in his life or the decisions I made! _You didn't even know he existed until I showed up at NCIS that day_! And if I hadn't, _you would never even know about him_!" She took a deep breath. "Maybe that would have been best."

He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her hard. "How can you even _think_ something like that, let alone_ say_ it?"

_"Let go of me!"_ She shoved him hard, stumbling back against the counter. Neither paid any attention to the kids in the living room, listening intently to every word. Tears slid down Asher's cheeks, and he took a deep breath; Zipporah sat on the arm of the sofa, wrapping her arms around her brother's neck from behind, resting her cheek on his head, and Liron sat beside his brother, taking his hand and squeezing gently. Devin sat on his other side, taking his other hand. Asher squeezed her hand once and pulled away, preferring to turn to his siblings for comfort. _"Don't you touch me!"_

_"He's my son, Ziva!"_ Tim ground out. "I had a right to know."

"Not if I decided not to tell you." She replied, arms crossed over her chest as she paced back and forth beside the kitchen table.

"So what, if you hadn't, you'd still be in Israel? Still be in Mossad? Waiting for the next drone strike or suicide bomber to target Be'er Sheva or Tel Aviv?" She kept quiet, but her breathing had quickened. He shook his head. "Do you even know how deep you'd be in Mossad by now if you'd stayed?" She met his gaze.

"I would still be on the fringes." He laughed dryly.

"No you wouldn't. Your father would figure out some way to get you into the depths of that organization. And you'd be in so deep that you wouldn't be able to get out, and then what do you_ think_ would happen_ to our son_?"

_"My son, Timothy!"_ She screamed. _"He is my son! Not yours!"_ She cried, flying into his personal space.

_"He shares our DNA, Ziva! My blood is running in his veins as much as yours is! It took us both to create him that night, Zi! It took us both to create all three of them!"_ She narrowed her eyes, studying his face.

"He is still._ My. Son_." She growled, pulling away. "Whether you helped me create him or not, _he is still my son_!" She returned to her pacing, running a hand through her hair. "You may be his father, but_ I_ raised him those first_ eight years_ of his life._ I_ taught him to walk, and how to write his name, and to speak and _I_ was the one there to scare away the monsters and kiss his bumps and scrapes when he got hurt, not you! _Me! It was me_!_ It's always been me!"_

Tim took a deep breath, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. A moment passed, before he glanced down at his hand, studying the ring he wore; the two stones that symbolized the joining of their cultures, their lives, their souls, as one. Sighing, he removed the ring, watching the stones gleam in the light of the kitchen. And then, with the same calm he'd possessed when he laid his badge on Vance's desk that day, he set the ring on the kitchen table in front of her. Ziva watched him, her gaze darting from the ring to her husband and back.

"What are you doing? Tim, what are you doing?" He moved past her, grabbing his jacket from off the back of the chair at the table. Silently, he pulled it on, moving past her, but she grabbed his arm. "_Timothy_!" He turned back to her, searching her face before pulling away.

"You're right, Ziva. We shouldn't have done this. I should have let you stay in Israel with the kids." He thought a moment. "Or maybe, you should have just_ stayed_ in Israel with Asher all those years ago. Save us both the heartache." Then he pulled away, going to the front door. She stared at the ring for a moment before following.

"_Timothy! Where are you going? Wait!_" He turned back to her.

"Going for a walk." He replied, pulling the door open and stepping out.

_"Tim!"_ She bit her lip, as the door clicked shut behind him. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she choked on a sob, before turning and rushing upstairs. The bedroom door slammed minutes later, leaving the kids alone in the living room, save for Jethro. Asher took a deep breath, before getting off the sofa, pulling away from his siblings. He rushed from the house, following his father.

_"Abba! Abba, wait! Abba!"_ But Tim didn't look back, and soon Asher was forced to stop when he lost sight of his father. He didn't hear Devin or the others rush to him. Choking on a sob, he turned, wrapping his arms around Devin and burying his face in her shoulder, sobbing.


	54. Chapter 54

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Here's a little bit of a twist on the 200th episode.**

She curled up on the bed, Tim's wedding ring held tight in her fist. She reached over, grabbing his pillow and holding it close, burying her nose in it, and inhaling his familiar scent. Fresh, hot tears began rolling down her cheeks, and she choked on a sob, his words ringing her head.

_"You'd be in so deep in Mossad that you wouldn't be able to get out."_

It had been her worst fear, being trapped in Mossad, like her father had hoped. Being so deep within the organization he ran that Asher would be left vulnerable, available for her father to get his hands on. And then, God only knew what Eli would do to her son.

Kill him, most likely. Eradicate the _very_ thing that had turned his daughter against him. And destroy his middle child in the process.

She choked on a sob, burying her face deeper in her husband's pillow, breathing in his scent, until the familiar, comforting smell lulled her into a fitful sleep.

_The house was quiet; so quiet it set her on edge. No longer was there the sound of laughter, of small feet rushing to greet her as she came home. Her father had destroyed that, taking the one thing that had kept her sane, kept her free from his chokehold. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the stuffed teddy bear her sister had given her the day that tiny miracle had come into her life. She dropped the stuffed animal, before picking up her bags and leaving the house._

She shifted, her eyes slowly opening. The sunlight had lulled her to sleep, and the sound a door closing had awoken her. A moment passed, and she shifted onto her other side, holding Tim's pillow close. A part of her mind told her to go see who or what had slammed the door, the other half told her to stay put, and so she burrowed closer to her husband's pillow, digging her nails into the skin around the ring she held in her palm. Eventually, she let the sun on her back lull her back to sleep.

_Her gaze moved up, and she studied the agents as she was brought to Interrogation. The woman wore a white lab coat over some strange schoolgirl uniform, with high platform shoes and her black hair in pigtails. She had a strange tattoo on her neck, and she hid behind who appeared to be the older agent, the one with the blue eyes. He obviously bore the scars of war, mental and emotional, but over time, had turned from war veteran to Team Leader. And then there was the doctor and his young assistant, the senior agent, with his teasing hazel eyes and the ring he bore on his hand, signifying a marriage. But her gaze only lingered on each one- until she got to the junior agent._

_It was his green eyes that caught her, that caused her pause. But before she could study him further, she was shoved into Interrogation and chained to the table. She didn't have to wait long for someone to join her, after the guard left. And just as she'd hoped, it was him. _

_He shut the door softly behind him, studying her silently, as she studied him. Something about him was familiar, comforting almost. She smirked as she noticed his green eyes rove up and down her body, drinking her in with a look that spoke volumes of the fact that he was just as familiar with her as she with him._

_ Yes, he recognized her, too. But he couldn't remember where he'd seen her. Not from the wanted posters, but from another time- a time long before NCIS. But he couldn't place where, or who she was, of the significance of their previous meeting. _

_"I remember you... Riva?" He shook his head. "No, Visa... no, no... Tiva."_

_"Ziva." She replied, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she tossed her head. "My name is Ziva David." He nodded, stopping in front of the table, pulling the chair out and taking a seat across from her._

_"Oh, yeah, Ziva. Now I remember. The icy Israeli. I followed you to a hotel pool once."_

_"Clearly I made an impression. But that is not what I was referring to, Timothy." He raised an eyebrow._

_"Where else, Ziva, would I have met you? And how the hell, do you know me?" He growled, leaning close. She let her gaze drift down to his lips, before meeting those green eyes. She longed to taste his kiss again, to feel his touch, to have him join with her like they had done those short years ago. She would give anything to turn back time and do things differently, if she could just look into the those innocent green eyes again and not see the hatred that so clearly shown in the man's before her. She would give her life to have those beautiful green depths back, to look at her in love, like that had done every day from the moment he came into her life._

_"In Israel." She whispered. "At an embassy dinner, when we were teenagers our parents forced us to attend. We snuck off together, went back to my family's apartment," She leaned close, as close as the cuffs would allow, and searched his face. "and we made love, all night long."_

_He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd remember a night like that, with a woman like you."_

_"You do. You just do not want to. But we made love; I remember because I screamed your name and you screamed mine, and then in the morning, our parents ripped us apart." He rolled his eyes, not believing her tricks._

_"I'm not playing any of your games." He replied, getting up to go._

_"We conceived that night." That stopped him from pulling the door open, and she knew he was listening. "You left me with a baby boy." She took a deep breath, tossing her head as he turned back to her._

_"I'm sorry?" She met his gaze._

_"You gave me a son."_

_"And where is this boy now?" He asked, returning to the table and resting both hands on it, leaning towards her until they were nose to nose. She took a deep breath, reaching into the sleeve of her shirt. Wrapped around her wrist was a necklace with a heart-shaped locket on the end. She opened it and set it before him. A moment passed, before he picked it up, studying the image of the child inside._

_"Dead." She replied, looking up at him. "He is dead. I came home one day to find him shot, bullet through the head. My father's work. He took our son from me." But he dropped the locket on the table before her and pushed himself away from the table, whispering, _

_"He's not my son." Then, without a word, he was gone._

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, struggling to get air into her lungs.


	55. Chapter 55

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

He let the water rush over his ankles, attempting to tug him into the ocean, and for a moment, he considered letting it, but then he turned and moved back a ways; he'd removed his shoes and jacket, leaving them further back on the back. Taking a seat, he rested his elbows on his knees and sighed. Ziva's voice rang in his head, running circles until his head began to hurt.

_"My son, Timothy! My. Son! I raised him those first eight years of his life! Me! Not you, me!"_

His wife was stubborn, so stubborn, there were times when talking to her wasn't even an option. He loved his wife, deeply, desperately, but he also knew that they couldn't go on living like this if neither one was willing to admit that they'd hit too far below the belt. They'd kill each other before then, if the violence didn't kill them first.

He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, studying the tattoos on his wrists; the thought that he might never have had them added hurt deeply. He loved being a father, watching his children grow and doing all he could to protect them. Tears slid down his cheeks as he traced Asher's name on his tattoo. That little boy had taught him how to be a father, how to learn and accept the mistakes he made, when he and Ziva were first together after they came over from Israel. He had done all he could to make sure Asher felt comfortable around him, and then he'd realized that it didn't matter if the boy was comfortable or not, just as long he was there, spending time with him, loving him like a father should. What his wife didn't understand was that Tim had been trying, from the moment she introduced him to Asher, to make up for the eight years he missed in his son's life. Even now, he was trying his hardest to make up for not being there, and it killed him whenever something went wrong.

But Tim loved all three of his children equally- which is why he'd had the quote removed from the top of his wrist, and another Celtic fatherhood knot added, with what appeared to be the birthstones of his children and his wife within the four points of the knot in the middle- each with their name in cursive in whichever arm of the cross the stone faced. He understood, he did, why Ziva was so attached to Asher- eight years with only her son as a reminder of the man she loved- and why she would be so reluctant to let Tim in. Eight years apart could do strange things to a person. But this...

Neither would admit considering favoritism among their children- that was one of the things that had driven him up a wall while at NCIS. Everyone knew that Abby was Gibbs' favorite- she had always been his favorite, and no one- not Kate, not Ziva, not Tim or Tony- no one, had ever measured up to the Goth. And Abby had milked her favoritism for all it was worth, even managing, on occasion, to turn Gibbs against the other members of his team. That had been part of the reason he and Ziva had left and never returned- yes, with NCIS turning their backs on the team, but also because they were sick of the favoritism, and he and Ziva were done playing those games.

Throw in the fact that the team had done all they could to contact the couple since Sarah had spilled the beans, and try to get them to come back to D.C., to come back to NCIS, and forget about this little "spur-on-the-moment adventure" as Abby had so nastily called it one night when she talked to Ziva. His wife had promptly ended the call and hung up on her, refusing to answer when Abby or the others tried to call back. The only ones that hadn't called or tried to get in contact with them were Ducky and- surprisingly- Tony.

He sighed. Tony had told him after Ziva had run off to fight for his family. To fight to bring them home, fight to keep them.

He knew that he had to, he just... he didn't know how much fight in him he had left.

* * *

Asher swallowed, quickly wiping the tears off his cheeks. His brother and sister sat close, keeping silent. Asher had begged them to understand, that he wasn't the favorite, he wasn't the problem, and they both assured him that they knew, that they understood and didn't hold it against him. Though they did hold it against Ziva, for the time being. The other three stayed close, but let the siblings take care of each other, prone as they were to do.

Devin turned as the door opened, and Asher and his siblings looked up as Tim returned, shutting the door softly behind him. _"Abba!"_ The three rushed towards their father, and Tim wrapped his children in his arms and holding them close.

_"You left..."_ Asher choked out. _"I'm sorry, Abba, I'm so sorry..."_

"Shh. Shh, Asher, sweetheart, it's not your fault. _None_ of you are at fault, okay? _None of you are_, I promise." He pressed a kiss to each head of dark curls.

"But Abba-" Tim knelt down, taking his oldest child's face in his hands.

"You listen to me, Asher Malachi, and you listen good, you hear?" The boy nodded once. "This is_ not_ your fault. _None of this_ is _your_ fault, okay? You are my son, and I love you so, so much. You and your brother and sister are the _best thing_ to happen to me, in a long, long time, and don't you _ever forget_ that, you hear? Are you three listening to me? _Are you_?" Asher and his siblings nodded._ "Don't any of you ever_ let anyone think that you aren't good enough or aren't important, or are a problem." He made sure each of his children met his gaze before he continued. "No matter_ what Ima_ and I say, it's not true. _Do you understand me?_ They are words said in anger, not in truth. _Never in truth_." He took a deep breath, as Asher wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Liron and Zipporah curled into Tim's embrace, and Tim took a deep breath, pressing firm kisses to each of his children's heads._ "I love you three, so, so much."_


	56. Chapter 56

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

She looked up as the bedroom door opened. Tim softly shut it behind him, leaning back against the hardwood. She sniffled. "I thought you went for a walk."

"I did." He replied, pushing himself away from the door. She pulled her legs underneath her, and looked down at her hand. She'd held onto the ring so tight, it left the circle's imprint in the center of her palm. The ring itself sat on the nightstand, awaiting a decision to be made. He stopped in front of her, hands in his pockets. "Asher thinks he's to blame. I told him that he isn't. I made sure all our kids know that they aren't the problem. That they've never been the problem." She swallowed, refusing to meet his gaze. He sighed, kneeling down so he could look into her face. "Ziva, talk to me."

She met his green eyes, seeing the cold hatred within the depths, and shook her head, laying back on the bed, turning her back to him. "No..." He sighed. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Ziva-" But she ignored him, clearly not interested in talking. After a moment, he got up, leaving the room as she burst into tears. He leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath, before heading to the stairs. He found Liron and Keavy sitting in the living room with Devin and Liam, watching _Interview with the Vampire_. Zipporah was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into a cup of coffee. He sighed, going to the counter. "Hey baby girl." She looked up at him, sniffling.

"_Abba_?" He poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Hmm?" She bit her lip.

"Are... are you and _Ima_ going to... to get a divorce?" Tim stopped, surprised. He took a seat beside his daughter at the table.

"Where did you get an idea like that, sweetheart?" She sniffled, meeting her father's gaze.

"You aren't, are you?"

"No, sweetheart. Of course not._ Ima_ and I aren't getting a divorce. We would never get a divorce."

"But-" He reached out, caressing her cheek. Tears slipped down her cheeks and he gently brushed them away with his thumb.

"We're not getting a divorce, sweetheart, I promise you. We've just... hit a rough patch. That's all, okay?" She nodded, before climbing into her father's lap and burying her face in his shoulder.

* * *

Jethro raced after the kids as they played on the beach. Tim had allowed them to go to the beach to get out of the house, and now, they were all enjoying the warmth of the sun on their backs and hadn't thought of the explosion or sound of gunfire that had filled their days. Asher tossed the ball Jethro had just brought back, watching as the dog took off down the beach; he started, feeling his sister's arms going around his neck. "_Zippa_!" The two tumbled into the water, and Asher shook his head, sending water everywhere. She laughed, climbing to her feet to flee, but Asher grabbed his baby sister around the waist and threw her over his shoulder, despite her shrieks of protest.

Liron glanced down; Jethro had returned with the ball, dropping it at his feet. He knelt down, scooping up the tennis ball. "You want it?" The dog barked in response, and he threw it, watching as the German Shepard rushed after his prize. As the dog returned to him, arms slid around his neck as someone pounced on him. "Hey!"

"Scared?" He glanced over his shoulder, to see Keavy hanging onto his neck, her legs holding onto his waist. He reached down, grabbing onto her legs before she lost her hold.

"What are you doing?" She giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Don't_ ye wanna_ swim?" He rolled his eyes, shifting his hold as Asher chased after Zipporah, Devin and Liam following.

"Sure." He replied, carrying her to the water, when they were in knee deep or so, he turned and dropped her.

"Liron, that's_ no'_ funny!" He laughed, rushing to the shore as Keavy climbed to her feet, ringing out her hair.

"You said you wanted to swim!" She pounced, causing them to tumble into the sand. He took a deep breath, unable to take his eyes off hers. She licked her lips, nervous, and after a moment, shifted off of him and onto her knees in the sand to climb to her feet, with a whispered,

"Sor-" But Liron's mouth on hers cut off the rest of her apology. He gently ran his tongue along hers, asking entrance, and after several minutes, she let him, brushing her tongue against his. The kiss deepened, becoming a teasing game of tag. One hand slid up to tangle in her braid as he brushed his tongue gently against the inside edge of hers. But soon soft giggling caused him to break the kiss, after several seconds, Keavy climbed to her feet, helping him up.

Liron climbed to his feet, glaring at his sister; Zipporah returned it, but all Keavy did was take his hand and squeeze, lacing their fingers. He shared a glance with Keavy, before ducking his head. As Asher fell into step with them as they left the beach and returned to the house, he asked, "So, what did you think?" Liron met his older brother's gaze, feigning confusion.

"Think about what?" Asher rolled his eyes.

"The kiss." He watched the emotions pass through his brother's green eyes, before the younger boy replied,

"I... I wouldn't mind doing it again."

* * *

Tim looked up; Ziva was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had tear tracks running down her cheeks. "Wh... where are the kids?" He set his cup down.

"Took Jet and went to the beach." She nodded quickly, reaching up and scratching her forehead.

"All of them?" Tim nodded.

"Yep." A moment passed, before she shuffled over to the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Silence filled the room, before she turned to him.

"Look, Tim-"

"Ziva-" They stopped, sharing a glance. "Go ahead." He whispered. She gave him a fleeting smile, taking a deep breath.

"Tim, baby, I... I'm sorry, I... I overreacted... I just..." She swallowed. "I'm just... terrified that... that I'm going to... to lose everyone I care about..."

He sighed, taking a deep breath as he turned his gaze to the coffee in his cup. "I know you're scared, Zi. I'm just as scared as you," He got up, taking the cup out of her hands and setting it on the counter, before taking her waist. "Zi, I'm sorry I walked out, I just... with everything going on, it just..."

"Just what, Tim?" She whispered, meeting his gaze.

"I don't want to spend every day fighting like this, Zi." He pulled her close; she continued to lean back against the counter, but allowed him to step closer and tug gently until their hips brushed. "This _isn't_ us. We never fought before we came here. At least, not this_ severely_. We've always been able to work out our fights. Whether at work or not, by the end of the day, we were always on good terms. Please, the last thing we need is your temperament and stubbornness getting in the way." She met his gaze, before pushing his hands away and grabbing her cup. And then she turned, heading back up the stairs without a word. He winced as the door slammed. Tim sighed. "Foot, meet mouth, now shake."


	57. Chapter 57

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: Sometimes, the_ MUSE_ can be a real _pain in the ass_. **

**This story is pretty much done. There's going to be a major development in the next couple chapters, but the muse has an idea for a continuation of this story, that starts months after this story ends, and has more of the team in it and their growing relationships with Sarah and Tali, plus, it will focus more on Tim and Ziva's children as the "new Troubles" come to a boil and a head, and the kids, in the new one, end up making some... interesting choices as they get older. **

**Add in that my muse already _has_ this story pretty much wrapped up at about 60 chapters- _and_ has the first six chapters of the next one written, and the last three of this one that just need to be edited and uploaded, before I post the new one. **

He shut the bedroom door later that night, after the kids had all gone to bed. The water shut off at the sink in the bathroom, and he stepped into the bedroom, to see his wife drying her face with a towel. She caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, and set the towel down. Dinner had been quiet, save for Devin telling them of her mother's plans to visit relatives in Northern Ireland when all this ended, and the kids talking about their day at the beach, but other than that, neither Tim nor Ziva had said anything, letting the kids and their friends chatter.

When he looked up, Ziva was standing in the bathroom doorway, hand on her hip as she rested her other hand on the doorframe. They studied each other for several minutes, and Ziva's nightmare came rushing back to her, and she swallowed thickly. A moment passed, before she moved from the doorway, moving towards him. She seemed to think for a moment, before demanding, "What exactly do you mean by _my_ temperament and-"

His mouth landing on hers stopped her, and after a moment, he pulled her close, holding her to him, one hand moving down to cradle her ass. His other hand moved up to hold her head as he deepened the kiss, drinking her in. A part of her screamed to push him away, but the other half of her- the part that knew this man, that trusted this man, that never questioned his motives or his feelings, the part that had been the driving force behind their wild night of passion all those years ago- ordered her to stay put. When he pulled away and stepped back, he searched her face, studying her eyes, before taking her head in his hands and kissing her harder.

Somehow, she ended up on the bed, ripping at the buttons on her husband's shirt as he helped her remove her jeans. She didn't remember breaking the kiss as he tugged her shirt off her, or reaching down to work on his jeans. She barely remembered removing her bra, or feeling his hand slip down to caress the inside of her thigh. He pulled away at one point, searching her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Zi. So, so sorry-"

"Shh." She rested a finger against his lips, shaking her head. "I'm the one in the wrong, baby, not you." He pressed a soft kiss to her finger, before kissing her again.

"We're both in the wrong. We're too damn stubborn for our own damn good." She grinned, trailing her finger along his lips when they broke the kiss. He brushed another soft kiss to her fingertip before gently taking her hand in his. He studied the soft skin, examining each swirl and twist of her fingerprint. And then gently, he brought her finger between his lips and bit.

"Ow, Tim, don't bite!" But even as she spoke, she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her throat, and he leaned close.

"I thought you liked it when I bite." She gave him a soft smile, and then captured his lips in hers, biting down in retaliation.

"Only if I can bite back."

* * *

Tim awoke the next morning; he sighed, stretching as he checked the time. Little after five. And then his gaze moved to his chest, where his wife was curled up, still sound asleep, her long dark hair spread around them like a fan. He chuckled softly, rubbing his face before laying a hand on her back. She shifted, nuzzling closer. It still surprised him that no matter how bad the fighting, no matter nasty the words flung, that they could always fall into bed together, make love, and then wake up the next morning as if the fight the day before hadn't happened.

He gently traced patterns on her skin, becoming lost in thought. She shifted, and he soon found himself staring into her dark eyes. "_Boker Tov_." He gave her a soft smile and whispered it back. She leaned close, stealing a kiss, that soon turned deep. He trailed his hand up her back, tangling his fingers in her hair. "I love you, Tim." He nudged his nose against hers.

"I love you." She lay her head back on his chest, snuggling close. Silence settled over them for several minutes, before Ziva lifted her head and stared at him. She crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them, studying the man she loved.

"What are you thinking, baby?" He sighed.

"Zi, do you think we should call Gibbs?" She started, surprised.

"Where did this-"

"That has been part of the problem from the beginning. Gibbs and his favoritism-"

"And how Abby can do no wrong." Ziva finished for him. "I know. I hated it. I was just as competent, just as good at my job, but when it came right down to it, we always got the punishment, and Abby got away scrub free."

"Scot-free." She nodded. "So, what do you think?" She bit her lip.

"It's your decision, Tim." He shook his head.

"No. It's _our_ decision."


	58. Chapter 58

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

"We'll be okay, baby." He reached up, taking Ziva's hand off his shoulder and bringing it to his lips. They waited for several minutes, before the older man answered. Both were surprised to see him still in the bullpen.

"Tim, Ziver, hey." They both gave him small smiles.

"Hey Gibbs. How're you?" Their former team leader bit his lip, nodding.

"Doing okay. Missing you both like crazy. How are the kids?"

"They're growing up." Ziva said, taking a deep breath. "They're... _not_ dating and _not_ in relationships." Gibbs chuckled, and the pair relaxed. Ziva wrapped her arms loosely around her husband's neck, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Good luck with that. You two set boundaries?" They nodded.

"You have to set boundaries here, on everything, with the way things have been." Tim replied. Gibbs studied his two youngest. They both looked older than their years, clearly the stress of the chaos they lived in was wearing them both down to the point of exhaustion. Ziva looked like she hadn't slept, judging from the bags under her eyes. Tim seemed nervous, an odd thing for the normally confident young man to be. Instantly, his hackles rose in suspicion.

"Everything okay, you two?" The pair shared a glance, before Ziva spoke up.

"We are fine, Gibbs. We promise. We just... it is not easy, living in a state of peptide chaos."

Tim rolled his eyes as the older man chuckled. "Per_petu_al, Ziva." He replied, as his wife stood and poured two cups of coffee. She set one in front of her husband before pulling the second chair close and settling beside him. Even years later, the former Israeli could still mix words up. "How are you doing, Gibbs?"

"Okay. It's different, without you here."

"How are the newbies working out?" Gibbs groaned, sitting back in his chair. He thought back to Bishop and Callister- the two were certainly odd ducks, that was for sure. But then again, so were Tim and Ziva. Callister was quiet, much like Tim was, and Bishop... he didn't even know where to begin with Bishop. She repeatedly broke rules- not just his rules, but NCIS's rules, she pulled more 'Palmers' as the team had categorized it after a case involving Ducky's assistant than anyone else on his team ever had, she food-associated with everything, which in and of itself was just odd, and, to top it off, she had Tony completely and absolutely turned around and inside out. The Senior Field Agent couldn't quite fathom the former NSA agent or why she was on the team, and what confused him even more was how she'd managed to marry a man that would put up with her strange antics.

Given the choice, honestly, he would take his two youngest any time.

"They're..."

Ziva chuckled. "That bad?" Gibbs shrugged.

"No, just... just takes some getting used to." He studied his two youngest. Even with the chaos going on, he knew they were happy, that they were still as madly in love with each other as ever before. Be careful, you two. You have children to raise. You need to stay alive for them." The pair shared a look, rolling their eyes. "And... I'm sorry, for everything. I never mean to hurt either of you-"

"It's okay, Jethro. No hard feelings. Not anymore." Tim replied, as Ziva laid her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to his wife's head. "We'd better go. But... it was nice talking to you-"

"Wonderful to see you again." Ziva added. Gibbs nodded, and bit his lip.

"Tim, Ziva, I love you both." The could shared a glance, before Ziva said,

"We love you too, Jethro." Then the screen went black. Once the conversation ended, Ziva got up, wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, squeezing gently. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, as Asher shuffled into the kitchen from downstairs.

_"Boker Tov, Ima. Boker Tov, Abba."_

* * *

Gibbs looked up as Tony came back into the bullpen; they were pulling another late night, and the Senior agent had offered to grab dinner for the team. As he handed out the cartons of Chinese, he stopped. "What's wrong?" Bishop glanced at Gibbs and Callister, but neither said a word, nor did Tony. He just sat heavily in his chair, staring in shock at what was in the carton.

"You okay, DiNozzo?" Callister asked, worried.

"Tim's favorite was beef with broccoli, and Ziva's was... beef lo mien..." The trio shared a glance, before Bishop got up, digging into the bag and going to him.

"Here. Open your fortune. Maybe it'll be something good." Tony's gaze shot from the cookie to her face and back.

_"I refuse to make decisions based on stupid saying stuffed inside stale cookies."_ He took a deep breath, reaching for the cookie. Tim's voice rang in his head, even as he broke the cookie in two and pulled out the folded piece of paper.

_"Why put your trust in some stupid little slip of paper that's been stuffed inside an over-baked cookie, and spent the last twenty-four to seventy-two hours sitting on a shelf in a Chinese restaurant, when you should be able to put that trust in yourself instead of some stupid little saying written in cheap blue ink?"_

He unrolled the slip of paper, tears misting his eyes as he read the words. Bishop glanced at the others, confused by the tears in the Senior agent's eyes. She turned to Gibbs, but the older man shook his head, and after a moment, turned back to Tony. "Um... everything okay? Tony? Hey, everything okay?" It took several minutes for him to pull his attention away from the fortune, but when he did, she saw the tears freely sliding down his cheeks.

"Yeah Bishop, I'm fine." He whispered, setting the fortune down.

_Embrace this period of calm and distance, for you will soon be reunited with old friends from across the shore_.


	59. Chapter 59

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Thanks to Guest for reviewing 53; mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 53 and 58; puppypants for reviewing 58; and Reader for reviewing 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57 and 58.**

Tim pressed a kiss to his wife's shoulder, wrapping his arms around her from behind. They watched Asher and his siblings chase after Jethro on the beach as the sun set into the water.

Liam and his family had gone to visit family in Mallow, County Cork, and Keavy and her father were visiting her aunt, who lived in Kinvara- surprisingly, where Tim's Aunt Siobhan lived- and Devin and her mother were spending time in County Clare, with her grandparents. They spoke often and Skyped a lot; things were just as bad there as they were in the rest of the country, but the chance to see family in other parts of the Republic was strong- especially since no one could get out, either to the north or out of the country of Ireland entirely.

Tim and Ziva were planning on going to Kinvara to visit with Siobhan in a the next few days, and were planning on spending a week with her, it was something the kids were excited about; they had only see Siobhan once or twice since moving to Ireland, never having the time or energy. The others would all be back in Clontarf in a few weeks, of which the kids were excited about.

Tim glanced towards the sky; the grey clouds that had rolled in were getting darker, and he jumped, as a summer storm broke out. Ziva laughed, turning to her husband. "Are you afraid of a little water, baby?" She asked condescendingly. He glared at her.

"Only when it sneaks up on me." He replied, capturing her mouth with his. When the showers got harder, both jumped apart. By then, the kids had returned with Jethro; Asher and Liron had Zipporah in between them, her arms around their shoulders. The girl whimpered with each step. "What happened?_ Hey_, what happened to Sister?" Tim knelt down to examine his daughter's ankle as Asher spoke.

"Zippa slipped on seaweed and twisted her ankle, _Abba_." The girl whimpered and tried to pull away as her father gently examined her foot.

"I know, sweetheart, it hurts to put weight on it." She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. "All right, come on, baby girl." She glanced at her mother, who nodded.

"We can't have you walking home and doing more damage to it, Zipporah." Ziva told her daughter.

"You don't mind, _Abba_?" Zipporah asked, as Tim shook his head.

"I do this all the time with you, Zip, remember, sweetheart?" The girl nodded, silent. He adjusted his hold, and then pretended to lose her, only to have the child latch tight onto his neck.

_"Abba!"_

"Sorry sweetheart, lost my grip." Ziva rolled her eyes, before reaching out and rubbing her daughter's back. Once the girl was adjusted, she rested her head on her father's shoulder. It didn't surprise Tim that his baby girl was light to carry- small and lithe, like her mother, with long dark curls and his bright green eyes, Zipporah was petite, and always would be, even as she grew into an adult. Tim knew, that by the time she hit her eighteenth birthday, she would be an exact replica of her mother, right down to her body type and those beautiful dimples she showed when she smiled. Add in her mother's temperament and stubbornness, and she was Ziva times two. The walk home was mostly silent; Liron and Asher held tight to Ziva's hands, and Zipporah nuzzled into her father's neck. "We'll make sure to RICE your ankle when we get home, okay sweetheart?" Zipporah nodded, as her father adjusted his grip on her legs.

By the time they got home, the downpour was heavy, and Ziva instructed the boys to take their sister upstairs when they went up to change into dry clothes. As the kids headed upstairs, she went to her husband, slipping her arms around his neck. "You are soaked, except for your back." He snorted.

"Well, considering that Zipporah was taking the majority of the rain-" She nodded, moving her hands down to unbutton his shirt and pull it off his body. She made her way to the kitchen, wringing out the wet material in the sink, before pulling her own shirt over her head and doing the same. However, she stopped as she felt Tim's strong arms slide around her waist and pull her close.

"Timothy, not now..."

"Why not?" He whispered, nuzzling her cheek. "We're already half undressed, all we'd need to do would be-" He ran his fingers along the hem of her jeans, working on the button and zipper. "get you out of these soaked jeans and then..." He nipped gently on her earlobe, before moving and capturing her lips in a deep kiss, but she pushed his away gently.

"Not with the kids upstairs." She searched his gaze as she turned to face him.

"And why not? They're used to it."

"But they're older now, we'll just be giving-" He moved closer, pressing a kiss to the space beneath her ear, and Ziva's eyes rolled back, the thought gone. Before she could object, he lifted her onto the counter, his lips catching hers in a deep kiss. She tangled on hand in his hair, the other clinging to his back, brushing over the tattoo that hid the scars from his childhood. Her hair was pulled back in a messy tangle of curls, and he moved one hand up to play with a few loose strands that framed her face. She moaned softly as he moved his lips down to her throat and then down her chest. She tugged gently on his hair, enjoying the feel of his lips on the soft mounds of her breasts. But her eyes snapped open as she heard footsteps on the stairs. "Timothy... _Timothy_!" He reluctantly pulled away, pouting softly.

"What?" They both turned at the soft sound of giggling. Ziva leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder as she smiled softly at her children.


	60. Chapter 60

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**A/N: The first chapter of the next one in this series should be up soon. **

The older woman stepped onto the small front porch, and pulled her wrap closer. Even with all the chaos and violence taking over their home, it was nice to see family again. A moment passed, before she felt strong arms slide around her from behind. "So, they_ 'ere_ yet?" She glanced behind her.

It had been too long since Siobhan had seen her nephew and his family, and they were all long overdue for a visit. Especially since the family was staying for a week, to get out of the complete chaos of Clontarf; sure, it was just as crazy here, but even with the violence, Siobhan was willing to have her family stop by for a week's visit, if it got them out of the eastern half of the republic for a while. Who knew, when she'd see them again, if ever? In this dangerous game of Tag, no one was guaranteed a free shot at home base.

"_Tha's_ them,_ comin'_ up the road." She nodded to the car as it pulled into the drive. Once it parked, the doors opened and three children and a German Shepard bounded out, rushing towards them.

"_Aunt Siobhan! Uncle Patrick_!" She stepped out of her husband's embrace, accepting the boys into her arms as Patrick scooped his great-niece up and spun her around. Tim and Ziva followed, holding tight to each others' hands.

"Oh, _ye've_ gotten so big, all of _ye_!_ Ye're gettin' t'_ look just like _yer_ father!" Siobhan said, pressing a kiss to each of her great-nephew's foreheads. She then pulled away from them, holding out her hands. Tim went to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "How are_ ye, me darlin'_?"

"I'm doing good, _Aintín_ Siobhan. And you?" She and Tim talked softly for several seconds, and Ziva went to Patrick, watching as he held Zipporah close. He gently tapped her nose and set her down with a kiss to the forehead. Patrick then turned to the young Israeli, smiling softly.

"How are _ye doin'_, Ziva-girl?" Patrick asked, as she went to him, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Patrick was the kind of man Ziva _wished_ Eli had been- caring, loving, good-natured, the kind of man Tim was, the kind of man she hoped- no, she _knew_\- her sons would turn out to be someday. The kind of man who accepted no matter the skin tone or heritage, who never laid a hand on those he loved unless it was in comfort or love.

"I'm good, Patrick. We... we hit a few rough batches, but we were able to work through them." She said, meeting Tim's eyes.

"Patches,_ Ima_." Liron whispered softly; Ziva grinned, leaning towards her youngest son.

"I realize, my joy." She pressed a kiss to his head, before turning back to the others. Siobhan squeezed Tim's hand before pulling Zipporah in for a hug.

"Let's get inside and get a _'ot_ meal in _ye_. I bet_ yer_ all starving. Come on."

* * *

"So how _'ave_ _ye_ been really, Timothy?" He looked up; Zipporah lay curled up on the sofa, wedged into her father's side. He sighed, meeting his aunt's gaze. Of all his father's sisters, he loved Siobhan most- not that he didn't love Fiona and Brigid- but Siobhan was the one he was closest to. How his aunts could be so loving and gentle, when his own parents didn't have a caring, loving bone in either of their bodies, always surprised him.

Deirdre and John McGee were perhaps the coldest of the McGee family, if what they'd done to their children were any proof. Tim glanced down at Zipporah, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then, he removed his arm from her shoulders. "Why don't you go help_ Ima_ in the kitchen, sweetheart." The girl nodded, getting up. Once she was gone, Tim leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands together. He sighed.

"_Wha's_ wrong, Tim?" A moment passed, before he met his uncle's gaze.

"It's the fact that my children are growing up in a country where your religious beliefs and your affiliation with certain people or certain groups depends on whether you live or die." He stood, going to the window. "A friend of Asher's lost her father to a trip wired explosion. He was one of the best doctors at Beaumont Hospital in Dublin, a gifted trauma surgeon, but because he's Catholic... because he believed in the Republic remaining a part of the British crown... he was killed." Tim turned back to his aunt and uncle. "What if my children are targeted because of who they're friends are, or what religion they practice, or... or whether they believe Ireland should be its own complete country or that part of it should still remain a part of Britain? What if my children are next?" Siobhan got up, going to her nephew.

"Oh Timothy, _ye_ should not worry so much. _Yer_ children are bright _an_' smart... they will be the generation_ t'_ end this violence_. Ye jus' 'ave t'_ trust. They will be fine, ye will all be fine."

* * *

Ziva looked up, meeting her husband's eyes as he shut the door and locked it softly behind him. A moment passed, before she shut her book and climbed out of the bed, going to him. He leaned back against the door, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her towards him when she got close. "You okay, baby?" He nodded, swallowing. "You sure?"

"Yeah." His voice was soft, and he searched her gaze for several minutes as his fingers moved under her tank and trailed up her spine. "I'm okay, baby, I promise." She smiled, meeting his gaze as her hands moved up his chest, working on the buttons of his shirt.

"I talked to Gibbs earlier. He's sending _Tony_ and Bishop on assignment to England for... some sort of case or assignment or... something or other. What do you want to bet that he'd gonna try to sneak over the border into Ireland to see us?" Tim snorted, running a hand up her back.

"I'd bet my wedding ring _and_ my good name that _Tony_ would get _caught_ the moment he stepped onto Irish soil, and, _considering_ that it's unclear who's friend and who's foe in this country, he'd probably get shot in the ass for his trouble before he can so much as flash his badge and says the words _'Very Special Agent_.'" Ziva laughed, working on the last button of her husband's shirt.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Bet your wedding ring. I love it on you. Besides, it took me four hours of lovemaking for you to_ finally_ let me return it to your finger."

"That's only because you wouldn't stop screaming."

"You kept distracting me. Besides, you know every well that I'm a screamer. You've known that from that first night on. Or have you forgotten?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good. And it's good that you're not tired anymore." He rolled his eyes and she pressed a kiss to his lips, grinning as she whispered, "Because I was afraid you wouldn't be in the mood tonight." But in the next instant, he'd walked her back towards the bed, taking one of her hands and spinning her once before pushing her gently onto the bed. She let out a squeal of delight as Tim's mouth met hers in a brief kiss. _"Tim!"_

"When it comes to you, Zi, I'm always in the mood." Her laughter filled his ear as she pushed him away and crab walked back towards the pillows. He followed, catching her around the waist and capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.


End file.
